My Unfulfilled (and Unfulfillable?) Fantasy

Posted on July 1, 2004 by admin

By Mark Bernstein

Last Fall I spent a month as a volunteer neurosurgeon and teacher in Indonesia. I went alone; my wife and three daughters remained in Canada. It was a fabulous experience to leave my privileged world in Toronto and do some philanthropic work with those less fortunate and I will be doing it on a yearly basis. I didn’t have a lot of time to do much sightseeing but my hosts took me on some short excursions. One turned into a memorable event.

One weekend one of the senior residents, “L”, took me to his family’s country home – a simple but lovely bamboo home in west central Java, nestled in rice fields and small mountains near a town called Garut. On the way we stopped at a hot swimming pool fed naturally by a hot spring. On the way out of there, L chatted up a fellow in the parking lot and then whispered to me: “We’ll get a massage”. I love massages but my initial suspicions quickly turned into worry as we followed the man down long narrow alleys. I felt like I was in a “B” movie, and one that might end badly for the protagonist. I whispered nervously to L: “This is just a massage right?” and he waved off my concerns. The man eventually led us to an open-air room crudely furnished with an old couch and a television. It gave onto two small rooms each with a bed and a bath. We were handed off to another young man who made a call on a cell phone and beckoned us to sit down.

Three minutes later two attractive and seductively clad young ladies appeared. I asked L to explain to them that a regular massage was the order of the day and I added a few graphic hand gestures to clarify for good measure. L went into one room with one young lady and left me with the more exotic and beautiful of the two. She called herself Mickie and I found out she was 24 – the age of my oldest daughter. That’s about all the verbal communicating we could do.

Mickie was quite gorgeous. She had a tight little body, a very beautiful face somewhere between Chinese and Philippina, and mid-length black hair. I found myself tantalized and drawn by her enigmatic beauty and it reminded me that I have always been more than a little fascinated by Asian women. My first wife was the middle daughter of a Japanese father and Irish mother and her delicate elegance and beautiful but understated sexuality was a magnet, along with her gracious personality. My many travels to the Orient and India in the last 20 years have reaffirmed my attraction for Asian women. And every day in my hospital I work in intimate life and death situations with a large number of skilful, compassionate, and ineffably sexy women who have emigrated from the Philippines and China. So the sexual tension was already high when I walked into the little room with Mickie and the door closed behind us. I was both nervous and excited but I knew the only outcome there could be.

The room had peeling paint and was about 95 degrees Fahrenheit with no air movement. I asked for a towel and she giggled as she handed me a washcloth and closed the door. I carefully undressed in front of her and flopped onto the bed on my front with the tiny towel on my buttocks. I heard a belt buckle rattling. I peeked over and saw her shedding her clothes to reveal a skimpy translucent black bikini-style bra and panties.

She poured herself onto the bed and gave me a body rub with a cheap cream. But it was clear this was not her primary area of expertise. When she did my legs she sat between them and the leg she worked on was supported on her thighs as she was in a sitting crouch. The small towel over my genitals slid around precariously. When she did my back she crouched facing my feet so her tight little bum was six inches from my face. Once or twice she made suggestive glances and gestures and almost touches but when I waved my hand “No” she respectfully complied. Being disloyal to my commitment to my wife has never been an option for me, and that combined with the fear of communicable disease shoved any thoughts of “I wonder what it would be like?” out of my mind. But I certainly wondered for a brief moment and I enjoyed every second of the delicious sexual tension that filled the room like the hot humid air.

But besides these good reasons for not having sex with Mickie there was another important reason. I would have had performance anxiety. I was alone with a beautiful young Indonesian woman less than half my age that had been with countless men and I was afraid I could not measure up to her expectations. Here I was a 53-year-old uptight Canadian neurosurgeon with all kinds of insecurities about myself and even if I had been an unfaithful type, I probably could not have gotten it on with Mickie if I had tried. In fact, while I was incredibly turned on during our entire time together (and still get turned on just thinking about it again), not once did even the beginnings of an erection try to emerge.

After about 30 minutes of what was supposed to be a one hour session, I thanked her awkwardly in Indonesian and after I declined an invitation into a bath, she got dressed, then left me alone to do so. Afterwards I joined her on the couch to wait. Every so often she smiled at me and sweetly caressed my thigh or arm as if to say: “Thanks for not being another one”. It was quite touching because instead of seeing her as an experienced prostitute, I saw a vulnerable young woman, someone who could have been my daughter. I thought of the numerous physical and psychological violations she had suffered by strange men entering her body, using her only as a means to an end.

L eventually came out and we paid the bill. Both girls giggled and Mickie hugged me warmly and kissed me gently on the cheek. As we walked to the car, I did not ask L what sort of “massage” he had received. I did not want to know the answer. Many people had told me that marital infidelity by males is extremely common in Indonesia, especially among members of the medical profession.

That day I felt happy to escape but now I can say something that many men may secretly fantasize about: “I’ve been in the company of a prostitute”. But the afternoon graphically reminded me of my fascination with Asian women and it also made me confront my sexual inadequacies and even cowardice. I can tell myself and others that I didn’t fuck Mickie for fidelity reasons and health reasons till the cows come home (and its absolutely true!) but in the final analysis I couldn’t have fucked her even if I had wanted to. Is that pathetic or is it a good thing? I think I’ve figured out the answer to that question but I’ll never be sure.

Mark Bernstein is a neurosurgeon at the Toronto Western Hospital and Professor of Surgery at the University of Toronto. He and his wife Lee (a native Los Angelina) have three daughters and two pet labradors. He has written extensively in the medical literature for over 20 years and for the last few years has been trying his hand at non-medical writing. He is the world’s second worst saxophone player.

Black Desert Nights

Posted on August 1, 2003 by admin

By JWS3

It was dark that one night and working the graveyard shift only enhanced the blackness of it. If it’s possible to be bored out of your mind when you are patrolling a open stretch of asphalt in the middle of nowhere, the Arizona desert will make the night linger forever.

I was out there that night. And damn, can I remember it! I’d just pulled onto the side of the road, sitting alone, trying to write out and complete “important” paperwork, that I was behind on; Way, way, behind on according to my supervisor. Well, don’t we all fudge and put off paperwork at times?

I had all my cruiser’s lights’ shutdown, each and every one of them, all except for the silver and very handy gooseneck lamp that I’d plugged into my cigarette lighter. I didn’t want to lose any night vision as I wrote out the boring jargon that I was so miserably late in submitting. I had my engine off, figured it was senseless to waste the taxpayers gas, doing nothing; I was already wasting their time and money just sitting there doing what I was doing; Absofuckinglutely nothing of value. Like I said, I was bored.

I guess that one aspect of my being there was always a “fever” factor Black and White Fever is the trade name we use. People tend to get edgy and nervous when they see a cruiser parked or moving. It’s something about always looking over their shoulder and sweating. It’s guilt I think, as do all my bro’s. We can have a way of making the blind see at times. I suppose that on a night like this if any should see me sitting there in the dark as they passed by, I would see the tell-tale flash of the brake lamps as they pronounced their own ignorance to me via hitting the brakes and slowing down. I’m not a hard ass; I give most folks a break when I’m on duty. Shit, I speed myself, so who am I to not understand the predicament they are facing? Between you and me, I hate getting pulled over too. And no, I haven’t got ticketed for your information.

Anyway, my nose up to here with sheer boredom, I diligently wrote out what I needed. I had the cruiser mate propped up on the steering wheel and my pen would draw diagrams as best I could when I filled in the three, or was it four, minor PI accidents I’d responded to in the past day. When I would be at a loss for a word or a term, I’d either click my ballpoint, or suck on its barrel, careful not to get the pen tip too wet. My window was open so what little breeze the night pushed over the empty sand and cacti would be granted entrance to my stale smelling car and rapidly perspiring me. My vest was pinching my waist right above the gun belt and I know my uniform didn’t look as sharp as I did when I stood at roll call either. Heck, who was really to look at a dark uniform in the middle of a night, anyway? I felt every inch of that constricting trap that I was sitting in. I was hot, hungry and a bit agitated. Since being assigned here and away from a woman’s touch, I was very, well “Needing it bad,” Trouble was, with my work schedule; I couldn’t get any when I wanted it.

God, you should see the babes I’ve pulled over; then again, you should see the ones I’ve not, too. Oh well, that’s the life I was in. I was sitting there looking up every ten to twenty seconds, making sure that no predator was trying to catch me off guard. Hell, even the radio didn’t feel like keeping me company. The channel was unusually quiet that night. The other officers were being assigned all the good shit the few times I’d monitored it. All I got was the shit hole to look at, and was getting slowly butt fucked in the process.

If I try to remember how that night became different, I’d have to say it started out then and there as a roar of an engine, pushing the silence forward. Yeah, that would be a good description of the event that would broaden my shift and make a moment pass and hopefully make it live again in the future. I sure hope that she’ll pass by me again.

The engine roar of her Trans-Am was the first clue to my ears that something was to happen; what? I’ll tell you. And let’s keep it just between you and me, huh? There are some brother and sister officers at the station would NEVER believe it. Hell, I hardly believe myself and I was there.

After hearing the air break wind as that sleek arrow of a motor vehicle shot by me, I could see my KR-12 radar flash out in screaming red, “103″ “103.” Shit! That car was racing alone! Well, even I appreciate a good chase to dispel boredom. I’m proud of my driving skills and I’d show that manic what I knew about speeding. I’ll tell you this too; I know one helluva lot more about it then the speeder does. I even know about what happens to jerks that don’t see me as they zip on by. You bet I do! This is one time I really felt the all get out to give out. I adjusted my mental attitude and I went in pursuit.

Screw calling this one in to Dispatch.

I can handle speeders on my turf with ease. ‘Sides, the others would want to roll on a “Assist Officer” call due to my location out in the boonies. Those two man units we run in the city? Well, it’s a misnomer ‘cuz a couple of those units are partnered by members of the opposite sex sitting, alongside a member of her opposite sex. We all know that there’re times when a partner may become a true “partner,” ‘specially when they leave the city and dash of towards the silent black desert to “assist” a fellow officer. I ‘spose it’s the magic that the desert possesses that brings out the intimacy and the “call of the wild” between partners, ya think?

Well, there was no way. Nope. Not that night. There was no way; and I didn’t want that. I just wanted the speed demon tamed alone, by me, and I had the whip and the fire to do it. The clipboard being cast aside, I fired up my cruiser and took off, displacing the sand like a bull getting ready to charge. I’d thought of activating the lights then, but recanted and decided not too. It’d been a while since I’d rolled along a road at high speed, running dark and quiet. This demon deserved my very best performance and I wanted to challenge my night pursuit driving skills. I’d engage the pretty lights people hate when I was on his tail, giving him a good fucking jolt. I smiled and I thought that would be poetic justice, just a good tingle of fear to wake his brain dead mind up.

Boy was I way off the mark.

I was flying with the wind. The Crown Vic that I was assigned had one sure of a beautiful performance engine and Ford Motor had built mine up right. Most pursuits don’t really last that entirely long. The speeder or the person that’s tying to get away is mistaken if they think that they can out-run a police car. Hell, we know the sector we’re in and we have an in-depth knowledge of two small and often overlooked items; the radio and our cooling system. Ours are heavy-duty; most people don’t even realize that their car will start to overheat during a pursuit.

Ask yourself this; “When was the last time I checked my radiator coolant?”

See what I mean? You haven’t, did you? Nope. You feel safe knowing that some pimple faced kid at the service garage where you got your last oil change, wiped his hands on a rag before handing you the bill and told you it was filled to the proper level, even pointing to the computerized printout out that backed up his claim. Kind of makes you wonder, huh? Heck, even given a properly maintained radiator, you’re still going to overheat after a while and when that happens you pull over, right? So, you overheat in a high speed flee from us what do you think happens? Well when that happens my friend, your cooling systems revolts in a most ugly manner. It busts. Ours doesn’t; ours are built to withstand the heat of the hunt. When their cooling system goes, we’ve got ‘em. My engine wasn’t even straining as I closed the distance to that speeder. My eyes were straining a lot as I booked along, though.

If you’ve ever driven in the dark, you have to keep your eyes wide open and always peering ahead. It’s a bad thing to look into your rear view mirror, even for the tiniest fraction of a second. A vehicle coming up from behind, or out of a side road can devastate your night vision and that would not be a good thing to have happen.

This was one time when I was grateful that I was maneuvering alone on an empty road. My only concern for safety was the stray night critters that would wander onto the highway and get caught, frozen-caught , in my rush. I’d never have time to see them. I tried not to concentrate that much on that happening though. I figured that by the time I saw one, it’d just be a slop of mess; that speeder ahead of me would make a violent splatter of it ~ before I rolled over top of what once was a furry little animal; Now just food for the vultures and an ugly eyesore for the day motorists I reckon.

Every now and then my eyes would do a flash-dart to my LED speedometer. I saw the green numerals climbing up the ladder as the Vic’s engine increased its whine and my heart rate duplicated its pounding. The throbbing amplified noises to my ears and temples; Whatta rush!

That engine and I were attached that night. I smiled. I had a hot feeling as my driving skills became more focused. I wondered just how many miles I was tearing up and shredding behind me. I kind of hoped that the chase would last, for I was going to be the victor in a race I’d know I would win.

I could start to see the off violet shading of the demons’ taillights. I smiled a bit wider.
Almost there, almost gotcha! I thought.

Gone was the distraction of the vest’s entrapment. No longer did I sweat from the enclosure of the humid car. The night breeze that was only a puff of air as I’d sat there doing the paperwork was now no more. It howled like a banshee and felt like a shout of winter as it slapped my face with an invisible and forceful open palm.

Less than a third of a mile and closing like a homing torpedo I saw the lights of the drivers’ speed-machine becoming larger. I could just begin to make out the faint glow of the license plate number as I drank the sweet distance inside of my anxious mind. One-sixth of a mile in distance and my right hand moved to the console between the seats, hovering above the rocker switches that would brighten up the lonely night sky and bleat to its ears the sound of importance. I could feel my elbow tapping against the butt of my holstered automatic.

It felt righteous. My foot was a part of the Fords firewall now and it was all I could do to hope my boots could withstand the heat of the massive flame that the engine held inside of its mechanisms.

“BUSTED!”" I yelled out to myself.

I made the night scream out “Rape!” when the siren and light bar yelped and began to strobe. I could see that my in-car video system unit was activated and recording just as soon as the light bar was powered up. The soft and pale green tint of the Kustom Eyewitness TV Camera would be recording the events from here on out to give credence to the upcoming sequence I was to undertake. “One Eye-No Lie,” I called it. My unit was hanging from the padded headliner to the right of my rear view mirror.

In a way I ‘spose, I took comfort in the fact that it was there and operating. Should anything unexpected happen to me, like say, I got killed or something more trivial, it would capture my attacker and at least show my bro’s what had occurred.

Okay, Okay ’nuff said about the morbid stuff. Anyway, I’d pierced the night and I knew that the driver would be placed in a moment of spatial disorientation, so I eased off of the accelerator and had my foot ready to apply controlled braking. I didn’t want my car kissing his ass end.

It’s Christmas time!

And yet, yet the driver didn’t want any presents. That TA just kept booking like nothing in the world mattered and I felt ignored.

“Sonauvabitch!” My curse was made to myself and then it was gone, carried out the window and lost behind me on the wind. Now, I thought, it was time to speak up and given the freight train sound of the air rushing at me, I had to talk louder to be heard over it. I unhooked the microphone from the clip and my finger hit the PA system selector.

“Driver! Decrease your speed and pull your car to the right shoulder of the road.”
There was still no change in the forward motion of that idiots’ vehicle.
“Shit,” I sputtered out and thankful that I’d released the push-to-talk on the microphone before I did. Once again I tried.

“Driver, pull your vehicle to the right and come to a stop.”

Nope, shit-for-brains was either deaf in one ear and couldn’t remember where he put the other ear after shaving or just plain old fashioned dumb.

Procedure called for the phrase to be repeated in Spanish, so I did. “Conductor, disminuya su velocidad y maneje su carro hasta la acera derecha de la carretera.” I repeated the second warning, my patience becoming very empty. “Conductor, dirigase con su vehiculo hacia la derecha y detengase.”

I was really on the verge of yelling into that mic. This had gone on a bit too much. Suppressing the urge to become mad and have it show on my voice, to the driver or the all-hearing vast desert, I threw the mic to the console and placed both hands on the wheel. My grip was glued and I could feel the moisture beginning to coat my palms. Those small black pieces of grimy dirt that will cling to a stained steering wheel felt like ridged-back mountains and I could feel every one of them as I flexed my fingers to ease the strain of my grip.

Still the Trans-Am kept plowing the air before us. Now I was really pissed. I stayed pissed and remained at a heightened tensioned state until the TA finally did as I ordered, or the driver, did as I’d ordered at last, after about two more ass tingling miles down the road.

I began to reconsider my earlier decision in not informing dispatch of what the hell I was doing. I hoped that this operator was not a wanted fugitive—a spooked felon. I ran over the checklist in my head, preparing myself for the worst. Law abiding citizens, those with nothing to hide from us, they stop. The bad ones don’t. Guilt flees.

Already I had enough skinny on this character to charge him with Alluding a Peace Officer, and a whole lots more little bite-you-in-the-ass stuff. I’m just glad my sergeant had issued me a brand new citation book at roll call. I knew it’d be just the ticket for this particular citizen.

I began controlled braking then and as I slowed, my heart still accelerated with vapid speed. The adrenaline rush that I was feeling was going to carry way into the morning. Looking at my watch and seeing it was near midnight, I halted the car and took a deep breath to force clear-headedness and to try to get the edge I was going to need.

Now I could see the vapor trails of dusty air blowing off of the graceful air curve of the rear spoiler of that classic machine. Surreal and beckoning, I thought, seeing it caught in the flashes of the strobes, for it took on the ghostly image of a hazy smoke, one that forced you to look at it and attempt to grasp at it, wanting to inhale its alluring scent.

My fingers went back to the black plastic console and I illuminated the rear and surrounding area with my Take Down lights and killed the phaser and warble siren with a shaky finger. In my tremoring way, I almost pushed the Alley Lights on when I did. That would have been great, exit my car and right away get shot as I was light up by sideways bulbs. No way Jose! Not this kid!

Still fighting for calm, I made the mic come to my lips. I decreased the volume and speaker output of the PA and started what was to be a long traffic stop; Felony style, to be safe. The tinted windows in the rear didn’t allow me to see just exactly how many occupied the car.

I assumed the worst. I had too.

“DRIVER. SHUT OFF YOUR ENGINE. REMOVE THE KEYS FROM THE IGNITION. ROLL DOWN YOUR WINDOW. THROW THE KEYS OUT OF THE WINDOW AND PLACE BOTH HANDS OUT OF THE WINDOW. DO NOT MOVE. RIGHT FRONT SEAT PASSENGER, ROLL DOWN YOUR WINDOW AND PLACE BOTH HANDS OUTSIDE THE CAR. DO NOT MOVE. BACK SEAT PASSENGERS, PLACE YOUR HANDS ON THE TOPS OF YOUR HEAD AND DO NOT MOVE.”

I grunted out loud in shocked surprise when the door flew open and the foxiest woman I’ve EVER seen leapt out of the car like a gazelle clearing a fallen tree.

Is my shotgun loaded? Shit! No time for it now!

Instinctively, my hand reached for my pistol as I ducked for hard cover, more from training than from the sheer sexiness of her legs and looks.

“Yea though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow God I wanna make love to her of Death, I willDamn, what a fox! fear no evil, for Thou art Holy shit! those legs! with me”

I had taken a firing grip on my automatic and had released the first of the two of my retention devices on my holster as I became one with the console. I wouldn’t remember smacking my chin on the edge of it until late the following day. Standing there as she was, she reflected the lights flashing and the stark brightness that the takedowns and my wigwags’ had placed on her. Behind her was only a backdrop of somber black. The scene looked like that of an obscure and surrealistic representation of an insane genius, who tried to paint when he was drunk and sexually excited.

She was splashed onto my mind and I had an eyeful. A white halter-top, ‘Breezy looking’, black gym shorts, long red hair, no shoes. I needed to look at her again, and I used the excuse to tell myself that I needed to see if anyone else was approaching my unit. I fumbled for the mic and was about to place a call into dispatch, when I popped back up.

She was alone-well, alone if you didn’t count my being there. My heart was a new form of anatomy by now. I knew it was still in my chest, for I felt it there, trip hammering away. It was also a part of my throat and mouth too. I could actually taste it and it didn’t taste half-bad.

The bad part was that I could also feel my back teeth floating along with the heart flavor.
Yeah, I had to take a leak and now wasn’t the most ideal time to think of it, but the taste I had as it hung there and splashed around, also caused my eyeballs to bob and float too. I was becoming transfixed and that my friend isn’t a good series of combinations.

“Officer?” Her voice paid me a compliment in the way she called out.
“DON’T MOVE!” was all I could say with my eyes moving around her and the area, looking for the that elusive hidden danger that you never see coming to assault you.

Shit. This wasn’t a normal thing that was going on here. I knew that she posed no real great physical threat, but caution was mandatory and horniness was running a bit neck-and-neck along side of Officer Survival Training. I couldn’t see any furtive movements or anything that remotely looked other than ordinary-if you can say her standing there in the night, her hand on the lift-back of her car was ordinary.
Yes I was shaking and yes, I’ll even admit to holding my penis with my free hand to squelch the urge to relieve half the taste in my mouth and drain off the liquid that was suspending my fishing bobber-like eyeballs, but that’s as far as I’ll go, okay?

I mean, forchrissakes, if you were to be placed in that situation, I’d like to see you hold your water.

I regained control of my faculties rapidly and once again, became the consummate professional that I am. I opened my door and stepped out of my boring world and cruiser and stepped into her life. Or perhaps it’s a more accurate description to say that she detained me in hers for a while

A very long while.

I never would have though, not in an entire tour of a career-would I have thought—that detention on a barren section of blacktop could be so enjoyable. And in reality, it was me that would become the detainee. I would have thanked my Lucky Star then, but there were so damned many stars out that night and it seemed to me that each of them were in my eyes. I just couldn’t find the star I needed to thank.

Let me ask you something. What would you do in a situation like this? I mean, you are there and she is there, and wellYou know? In my experience when most people are caught in the glare of strobes and bright lights, they tend to shield their eyes from the blinding effect. Not her though. No No she just stood there, brazenly and defiant, staring back into my lights, moving her head to get a better view of me as I was exiting my cruiser. I remember those eyes of hers as I locked onto them with my own.

“Stop! Ma’am, stay exactly where you are and do not move!,” I tried to summon up my best and most command-authoritative, “Think Twice Before Screwing With Me,” voice that I could without choking myself on her looks. It was difficult though.

“Officer, what’s the problem?” She walked towards me, treading the pavement lightly like a cheetah looking for a morsel. My takedowns only made her teeth appear more whiteand dangerous. I felt more than a chill cover my arms and neck on that warm night.

Shit, I’m trembling. Not good guy, not too very fuckin’ good. Defensive Tactics training says that I had three choices in this situation. She was within my gap and my reaction time was dwindling. I could advance and close the distance, move bassackwards and increase the distance, thus gaining a few life-saving seconds should I need it or, I could stand there and do not a goddamned thing. DUH!

“Don’t move.” I said it with a sharp razor edge, very clearly, as I used my car door as a cover barrier.
I stood there. Why? I don’t know. I just did. Lucky for me that my tone of voice worked on her. She kind of stopped that feline predator movement and placed her hands on her hips and just looked at me as if she was in a state of confusion.

“Move back towards the rear of your car and keep your hands were I can see them.”

Ain’t nothing like training to bring one back to alertness. I was the one who was supposed to be in control of this situation, not her. She faced to her left and moved to the trunk Thank God!

I never actually thought I was really in dire trouble from her. That comment I made about her smile and walk? Yeah, she would a pounced if she had the chance I think, but she was a smart one this gal. She ambushed me later when I wasn’t looking.

Placing her hands where there were in the open helped out a lot. She just leaned against the lift-back and waited for me to make the next move. I had to get my citation book and cruiser mate from the front seat and start the license-registration-insurance drill with her now.

“Do I get a ticket?” Those eyes of hers light up again and those teeth were still apparent behind her demure grin as she spoke. I ignored her with my listening, but not with my hearing and eyes as I reached across the seat and grabbed the instrument of punishment to the guilty and the lawless The clipboard.

“Ma’am, I’ll need to see your drivers license, vehicle registration and proof of insurance, please.” I spoke as I walked carefully towards her. I was still very much observant of keeping my distance Reactionary gap, you know. My eyes never left her as I brought out my ballpoint and made ready the ticket book.

“They’re in the car officer in my handbag. May I get them?” She kind of smiled as she said that.

Shit. I knew that.

“Yes. Don’t play any games though. If I EVEN think I’m in danger” I let the sentence hang. She knew what I was talking about, because her eyes told me she did and those orbs paid a glancing look to my hand that was grasping my sidearm. She nodded and with mild seductive walk, moved back to the front of the TA.

Damn what legs’Nice ass too.

Placing that fine butt of hers on the seat and letting those legs hang outside of her door, she twisted and got the items I’d need. I couldn’t help but notice as her gym trunks kind of went up a bit and showed the night more thigh. Once she had her license and papers in hand, she looked up at me and signaled that she was going to step out of the car.

Me I just stood there. I couldn’t really do anything else because her eyes told me just to stand there, so I did plain and simple. I really should have run the plate by using my prep radio at that time, seeing as how I didn’t when I was chasing after her, but I could do that later as I wrote out the citation.

My safety comes first to me and when I was after her, I really didn’t have one whole helluva lot of time to drive, and run a plate that I knew would come up clean as a virgin’s pus Well, you get the picture.

I already had my impression of her in my mind. Society chick, rich, bored, liked to drink and speed. .’Lives in Scottsdale or a secluded section of the more ritzy places we all know exists but don’t get the attention Yeah. I’d seen the type before, but this one, this one was different in some way. I shrugged it off and refocused on her hands.

Time for me to start the inquisition. “Do you know why I stopped you?”

Inwardly I was laughing. I’ve heard some really great excuses before and all of them classics. Let’s see Ms Society talk her way outta this one.

“‘Probably because I was doing one-hundred and forty-five in a seventy-five zone at night on a dark and lonely desert road?” She said. Smart-ass! I thought to myself.

The look that she was sending me was one of mild humor and mischievous in one amused facial expression, but there was an honest quality in her tone of voice. I reached forward and took her documents from her hand. The old trick of repeating back the last sentence in the form of a question to make a person provide more detail was called for.

“One-forty-five?” I questioned. I knew that her Pontiac was capable of doing at least one fifty, ‘cuz a buddy of mine has one and he too pushes the envelope of its performance at times. He calls his TA a “pick up” and for the longest time, until I found out why he does, the name confused the shit outta me. Not knowing my buddy, I’ll give you a hint to his car’s moniker, okay? He doesn’t use his “pick up” for work, he’s not employed in the construction occupations but he feels the need to transport certain material to assist him in laying pipe. Some guy, huh? We should all be so lucky, no?

Great mug shot looks good. I’d quickly glanced at her drivers license. “Faster?” Was the word she shot back. She seemed to know the game. ‘Now she’s questioning me. Her grin was getting a little too friendly and I was having a hard time in remembering just what to do next.

“I had you clocked at one hundred and three,” I said in a hazy voice as I flipped her driver’s license under the clip on my board, “but that was only at the point you’d passed by me, miles back from here.” I’d gestured my head over my right shoulder. Overheard, the dull noise of a jet, miles away from where she and I were, rolled down to us. I’m pretty she that she heard it before me for some reason. By the looks of her, her hearing was better than mine was. She seemed to stand up in slow motion and I don’t even remember her actually getting up.

I’m getting’ too old, I thought to myself and I tried extra hard to concentrate on my job as she propped her back against the roof of her car and learned back on it. The breezed loved her more than it did me for her hair was being cooled and caressed by it, mine wasn’t.

That’s strange. I thought to myself, seeing the wind rouse her long red hair.

“My radar is offset a fraction. You may have been doing one hundred and ten then flying past me.” (All right, I’m a softy at heart. The secret is out; I give you ten miles and hour over the limit on a bad day. Why a bad day, you ask? Well, if I’m in a bad mood, I don’t feel like stopping cars and issuing tickets; so now you know.)

“Damn,” she swore, “and here I thought I was going to beat my record.” I could actually have sworn to myself that she was pouting for not going faster and finding out about it. The registration wasn’t phonied and the validation on the insurance was good. I just needed to run her and this fire breathing speed sled through the computer. We have the PC Mobile laptops in each unit, but I never use them a lot, preferring to have the Dispatcher earn his paycheck and sort of “stick it” back to the department where they stuck me for sticking me out here in this rectum of the earth. Serves ‘em right, huh?

“Why were you going so fast?” Was the next thing that came out of my mouth. Hey, I was concentrating.
“Do you want my honest answer?” She smiled and wiggled a bit as she asked it. Damn! Those teeth! I could feel that this was going to be longer than I expected. I played dumb. Sometimes even that works and the way that she was effecting me, it wasn’t that far from the truth either.

“Excuse me?” I replied.

“You asked me why I was going so fast. I asked you if you wanted my honest answer.” Those teeth of hers never left my eyes as she spoke.

Watch her hands guy Look at those han…. Those …hand Those teethThose teeth!

Now I was really having difficulty with my heart rate and speech. The words were there; they were just lagging a little. Well, okay, a lot. I could feel the body armor begin cinching again and the sweat trickle between my it and my skin. ‘Seems as if my inner ear began to tell my brain to start messing with my equilibrium too about that time.

“Uh yes, why so fast?” I said, my head in a fog.

Why was I so slow?

She stood a tad more upright and even then at her height, she looked bold. Her brows squinted and she gave me her answer-An answer that I knew she pulled off the top of her gorgeous head of hers.

“Well,” she began, and smiled brightly in the night, “for three reasons, I ‘spose. I wanted to see if I could break my all time record, which according to you I didn’t.” she shot a gaze to the KR-12 radar and the video camera mounted inside my window, “and I am hungry.”

Hey, even not being able to properly balance myself and see straight, I still knew how to count. My focus was shifting and I was having to really force myself to squelch that cold feeling you get when everything seems to be in order and yet you’re aware it’s not and can’t do a damned thing about it. The tinny speaker squawked out from my prep radio on my side, and its muted words told me that somewhere, someone was being assigned a good call. ‘Lucky fucker.

“That’s only two reasons.” I told her.

She placed her hands on the frame of the half-opened door and it’s edge while she flexed her legs and shuffled a bit more. To me, it was as if she was “flowing” as she moved. She wasn’t being hostile I felt, but rather I had the deep entrenched gut feeling that she was making herself comfortable. I quickly shook my head from side-to-side to clear my brain fog.

Snap outta it! I was desperately chiding myself, trying to focus on reality.

“Oh, yeah, right The third reason. I am certain that I didn’t slow down because I didn’t see you sitting there and even if I did”

Her small yet mock-filled laugh at the end got me. Her teeth and her eyes had had me for a while though. That did it. Right then and there I seemed to have lost two things; my patience and my temper. I said to myself, “To hell with the patience and the hell with the ticket too. She’s going to county lock up.”

In that moment I had regained my clarity; in that moment only. What happened next, seemed as a dream. ‘Stainless bracelet time, Ms. Society. I began reaching to the right side of my duty belt for the S&W Model 300 hinge cuffs in my pouch.

I figured that I would cuff and frisk as procedure mandated, toss her into the rear of the cruiser, conduct a vehicle search and throw impound sticker on her front and rear windows. Once all that neat order of items was accomplished, I was going do more paperwork.

You know something? In a weird sort of way I really felt bad for all those dykes in lock up once she graced that hallowed sanctuary. She was a looker, I tell ya. A real looker, this woman.

“Move to the rear of your vehicle, keep your hands in plain view and then place them on the trunk.” My voice was commanding and forceful. Automatically I increased the gap by stepping backwards and tried to retain the balance that I felt being devoured away from me by dizziness. She just nodded and slowly complied; she spoke as she walked.

“Oooo, am I being placed under arrest officer?” She said it in a jeering-like manner.

“Yes. Place your hands on the trunk and do as I tell you to do.” I was going to do this one by the book. I didn’t need the hassle of a sexual abuse charge on my record. I fought the nausea I felt swimming up in my stomach and moving into my throat. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I think I wobbled a bit and shook as she walked by me, beyond arms distance but still close enough to leap toward me. I never did really forget her cat-like moves when she first walked toward my unit.

“Are you okay officer?” Her voice was soft and mellow Refreshing even. I began to feel very cool standing out off the edge of that warm pavement. She knew something was wrong with me. I tried to respond. “Move to the rear of”

The she-cougar sprang and I was the dinner.

WELL FUCK ME!

My clipboard went first to the ground a second before I did with her on top of me. My mind reeled and I knew that had to protect my weapon. Covering it with my strong hand and feeling the urge to vomit, I could feel her hair slash at my face. She was lithe and agile and knew how to wrestle and the she- wildcat tried to pin me while attempting to bite me. I felt those teeth of hers on my neck for an instant and then I felt the wetness of her lips and tongue too. I had the weight and training, she had the advantage and speed, in this case we were evenly matched-Or so I thought.

Muthafuckingsonuvabitchintwoballbastard! I was cursing to myself.

Ya know something? Motorola makes a great prep radio. Those radios are built like a tank and it was that tank of a radio that damn near busted my left hip when I hit the ground; it was the wildcat that damn near busted my nuts. We fought in the night as the stars watched us and placed bets on the winner. I won the tussle on the ground but she won the overall arrest.

She’d put up a good fight; a very good fight. I’ve been in a lot of conflict’s and had never got as down and dirty as that one went. That hard asphalt and the gritty sand-what little wind blew on it-were the least of my concerns. All I could do was hope that she didn’t get a hold of my firearm and I fought hard to protect it and therefore save my own sorry life.

Somehow I managed to roll on top of her and pin her to her down on her stomach. From that point it was easy to place my knee into her back and cuff her, felony-prone treatment now for her all the way. I guess that tachy-physicia effect had been ongoing too. Time, Space and my body were not yet in my minds mental sync and didn’t allow me the luxury of being attuned to the actual drama that had just occurred between her and I. I don’t remember too much of exactly of the how that I was able to subdue her, all that I do know was that I did. The strange part of that whole apprehension was that neither of use actually spoke a single word. I had the cuffs on her and sat back on my ass to catch my breath.

In the blinding and incandescent array of my cruiser’s lights and the color of the sky and the flow of the now passing breeze, I took stock of my condition. My trousers were ripped and my belt was in disarrangement from being shaken during the scuffle. My vest had ridden a small amount higher and I know that my left hip hurt like hell. My hair was a mess. My shoulders, back and arms were killing me and my groin felt like rotten scrambled eggs. Added to those minor injuries, I still felt that wave of nausea sloshing around and those chills were now to the point of shivers.

Oh? Did I add that I was sweating and the drops were pouring down my back, face and neck? My neck! She fuckin’ bit me! I’ll be goddamned!

My neck— It felt cold as I placed my hand to the area that her teeth, those teeth, had sunk into. It was slightly below my jawbone and further back. I wiped away the sweat and flung it off of my fingers to the pavement, looking at it as it started to clot on the blacktop.

Clot? Sweat? It wasn’t sweatIt was blood. My blood.

I snapped my head and felt my neck begin to ache and become warm. I looked over at her lying next to me. Her cheek was pressed into the hard warm surface of the highway and she was smiling at meLewdly, smiling at me. She had my blood on her lips and my soul trapped into her eyes.

Now this is where I lose a lot of memory. Understand that the way that I was before, I was an expert in noticing all of the small stuff. You have to be in my profession because lives depend on it. Memory skills are learned from childhood and expand by aging and knowledge learned from life’s events and from the others who impart what they know to you. Now though, now I am really very good at recalling the slightest details of minor and trivial things as I often overlooked, and I’m talking quantum sized, small details here.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking here too. You’re thinking that I came close to losing the struggle and my life and was bleeding from a serious gash in my neck from that society minx’s teeth and that I was afraid of dying out in the middle of Bum-Fuck Egypt, right? You’re thinking that having come so damned close to a near-death experience, that I’ve reexamined my outlook on life in general and I’m paying greater attention to detail on the smaller things in my official capacity and routine, right? Wrong. And you thought that you were pretty smart, huh?

Before I explain just how this newfound knowledge entered me, I have to get back to the point where you and I left off, okay? Well, for starters, I sat there looking into her eyes and lost myself in them I mean LOST, lost, like “never to be found.” Out here in Arizona, Search and Rescue has a term for all of those weekend city dwellers and seasonal snowbirds that frequently become slightly miss oriented when they take day-trips into the desert. We call getting miss orientated two words; The first, if we find them quick, we say that they were “L.I.D.”, meaning Lost in Desert. The other ones— poor bastards—those who suffer from dehydration or even die from exposure, we refer to as “S.L.I.D.”, Seriously Lost In Desert. Taking those slang acronyms and bending them into my situation as she reached into my mind and soul through my eyes, I was S.L.I.H.

Yeahyou got it now? I was Seriously Lost In Hell.

I sat there just locked into her eyes now; the teeth were not any concern to me any longer. She’d done only half of what she wanted to do to me though. I kept hearing her voice in my head meshed alongside of what and mine memories I had of my life and that night. I remembered the feeling as I sat in my car, bored and uncomfortable, pissed off and feeling abandoned, alone, disliked, and not loved.

Her voice, that one in my head that had become dominate and it took away all of that. She pushed it out somehow; all of those echoes and webs of things that were hurtful and spiteful, miserable and just so goddamned awful in my life. She was soothing me, healing and kissing me in my mind with my blood fresh on her lips, and so help me God it felt good!

“Come, come and join me. I’ll provide and protect you. I can make dreams become life and life becomes mere dream. Pleasure is here, love is here, and all you’ve ever desired is here. Come. Come with me. Come to me. You want to come to me because I am here.”

I stood up and looked down upon her and she kept those eyes on me, craning her neck and her head as I threw my left leg over her prone body, straddling her and helping her up. I did it gently and with force at the same time, lifting her with both fear and respect. Then

Then we were in front of her Trans-Am. She was still handcuffed and my mind asked her mind if she wanted to be released from them.

“Not to worry,” her soft voice in my head spoke to me, “I like them, keep them on me for the time, for it’s been ages since I’ve been in chains and I enjoy the feeling every once in a while.”

That invisible voice of hers spoke so lovingly and with such a powerful and sensual conviction, all I could do was nod and comply. She willingly leaned over the hood of her car; its color matched my feeling and contrasted with the night and her hair as it fanned out on the still warm metal. Over the hushed purrs that she’d send into me, I could hear the ticking sounds that the engine gave off as it was contracting and cooling.

To me, it where as though a clock was ticking in real time and I could hear it from a far away distance as time passed slowly. It didn’t matter much, I was to have all the time I need, she told me that as I thought it, and then I began to frisk her trim body.

“Mnnn, you do that so well,” my hands started to press lightly around the tops of her shoulders. “I love feeling your hands roam my body. Go ahead, touch me more.” They went to the outside of her shoulders, patting very lightly and rubbing in circles as I frisked her for for

Why? I asked myself. “You’re frisking me, for me.” Of course, my head told me. I was frisking her because she had asked me to.

Still lower my fingers went, along the outside of her ribs and the entire surface of her back as she slid against the maroon colored hood. I moved into her closer and pressed my groin to her ass and she moaned again and spoke to me, relaxing what inhibitions and remaining fears of sexual harassment that I was rapidly forgetting about.

“More! Yes! I want this, don’t be afraid, nothing will harm you. Just let your hands go unshackle them from your will touch me in places you’ve thought of touching other women. I’ll never tell, and neither will you.” She was still slithering around as my hand’s administrated to her wishes. I wanted her in my head; I wanted her in my soul

I wanted her.

We danced together her and I. We danced the dance of the Pleasure Damned and Forsaken. I pressed my hardness crudely into her undulating rear and felt her pushing herself back at me. Her hands, rudely cuffed by me at her slender wrists, were manipulating at my zipper as my hands became knowing the firmness of her breasts. Arching her ass upward to meet my hips and motions I was creating, her head sank lower down the slope of the hood. My knuckles became hot from the heat of being trapped between her globes and the engines dissipating heat. I was burning with dark lust and the smoldering of Sin—her Sin—it made my eyes close and then open to fan away the feelings that her body and mind were introducing me to. My hips pumped faster along her trim ass that lay behind her shorts and I couldn’t even begin to feel the sheerness of them as I rubbed myself against her. All I could feel was her willingness to offer of herself as I stroked her with my aroused desire and hard on. I tore at her gyrating hips with my shaking hands, trying to still them and I felt the sharpness of each hipbone as I roughly drew her toward me.

I felt the wave starting to climb to crescendo of climactic release of my life’s seed life building within my loins; threatening, cautioning, goading and taunting me to free it. I tried with the last portion of all that I knew was true and just to hold myself back. Her voice splashed over it as I heard her siren’s song of the ancient and unholy kidnap of what she was about to pillage from me.

“Now! Spill yourself into my world and my darkness!” I fought another battle and had to admit bitter defeat to her strength.

“Yesss! Yesss!” The spittle from her hissing in my mind blinded my eyes to the Black Oath I was taking. I had to make her, give her, pleasure her

“Take me my Dark Blue Knight! Ravish me as I demand! Ravish my body as I take your life!”

Her long and nailed fingers reached in and took hold of the salvation she needed. She held me in hand, and began rubbing me up and down as best as she could, all while she was grinding and thrusting her mound into the thin peak of the front of the cars hood. The moan and climax her mind forced on and into mine was roasted on a spit above a forge of molten earth and ash.

My eyes, once human, my breath once full and deep, each breath that was once free, were now blinded and scorched as I choked with that obsidian ash of fury that she erupted with as my final act of physical love was stolen from me and bastardized for eternity. I came and doused the need within her to possess. I ejaculated myself into her hands and my life was then hers as my body died pressed to her cold passion.

Her eyes were as fatal as her bite and those windows of doom looked at me with her chin buried into her shoulder. She was snarling and I could see the blood and her fangs.

She’d received the other half of what she drove the night for. She wanted me. She desired to possess me, just a human male for her arousal to birth into a God; a God somewhat lower on the pedestal of her kith and kiln.
She wanted a lover; a Dark Lover to ensnare unwilling playthings as they sat bleary eyed, fighting off highway hypnosis as they sped through this stretch of road in the Middle of Forgotten. She wanted to orgasm to the sound of a man pledging his undying love to her beauty and her wanton cravings as he died on top of her-screaming as he plunged into his own personal ecstasy of tormented Hell-her name on his burning lips as his soul was signed and deeded over to her for eternity.

Yes, she now had what she came for that one black desert night.

She had me. I was hers in a sense from the time that I was born. When I keyed my ignition that night and ran dark and in pursuit, I was chasing myself in a dream of unreal reality. What I have become now is my true self and that of the life I left behind was the dream. Allow me once again to take a look into your thoughts, for it’s easier for me to know you in that intimate way. I know that you’re thinking that since I was a man and she was a “woman,” she hunted me down and lured me into her speed trap, yes?

No, no that is not the case. She has known women in the same way that she’s known and created me, and I too have found the creating of the more masculine males at times, even more exciting than the females of your species.

Remember back into your mind when I started relating this evening to you? I told you not to bring this up at the department for they wouldn’t believe this story? Would you believe that there are both male and female officers assigned the sectors of this city that would. They’d not only believe it; they’d be very jealous and envious of it and the way I’ve told it to you. I am special and they are not.

You see, I am the only one who knows her and who knows of her, if you catch my meaning?

And may I give you a word of freely given advice? Stay away from the West Side of town; for there are those of Us who patrol the alleyways and construction sites that flourish there.

I conduct my life and my job a bit different these nights. I don’t worry to see if the tape in the VCR that records the images as seen from the in-car system is blank or has been recorded over. It doesn’t really matter that much to me if it has or has not. I’m really lucky that I took that night’s tape home to view it. I was the only one that appeared on it that dark desert night.

Oh, I can smile now in knowing what I know now, but even so, I found watching it the first time so very chilling and unbelievably erotic in its content. I sat there on my couch just before a new dawn and was frozen as I saw the TA’s driver side door open and she never was captured on tape getting out of the car.

That was mild to say the least of what followed on the remaining footage. I’ll let you draw your own mental movie yourself from the events that I’ve just related to you.

I’ve been disconnecting the plug in jack to the “One Eye No Lie” each night I start my shift anyway, and I’m satisfied in the ownership of my one and only private home movie. Just don’t really try to think about what you see on the shelves under “Horror,” in the video stores these days too much, okay?

Oh, I still patrol that gloomy highway; I still sit there at night, watching for the telltale sign of those blood red brake lamps to signal that they’ve seen me. I smile a lot these days finding the thrill in the chase and the detainment. For those of you who are unlucky enough not to notice me and make no attempt to slow down? Well, let’s just say I don’t hand out as many tickets or give as many breaks as I used to and let’s leave it at that. I look forward to meeting you. Perhaps you may not return the pleasure, and if not, I understand.

Remember to buckle up and drive safe.

And as for speeding? Well now, that’s your decision, isn’t it?

JWS3 is a retired professional soldier and a former law enforcement officer who resides in Michigan. He is currently working on a novel which takes up much of his time. Well-versed in computers and being a four-fingered typist, JWS3 has too much time on his hands and can be reached at jcwest12@msn.com.

Love Sex Power Inc.

Posted on November 1, 2001 by admin

By Leonardo Calcagno

Romance in the workplace has become quite acceptable. With more liberated sexual mores and more women in the workplace [thank God!], work has become one of the better places for men and women to meet, date, mate and have wild sex. But office romance has more consequences than just plain sex; when sex politics are involved, it can have problematic repercussions when a fling becomes a management problem that creates havoc. Gossip among cubicles becomes an epidemic. A reputation as a “Ladder Whore” is easily spread like cheap jam.

I, however, think that sex on the job is about the only positive aspect of working at all.

So Does Lisa A. Mainiero, author of “Office Romance.” She says work liaisons can improve office morale; motivate employees, encourage creativity and innovation, and boost productivity. It can soften work-related personality conflicts, improve teamwork, communication and cooperation. When office lovers hold jobs in different departments, they serve as a channel for communication. From an executive point of view, office romance can be used as a recruitment and retention device to stabilize the workforce.

The Players:

Ana, a secretary for a law firm
Melanie, a music executive
Sandra, a Web designer
Carlos, a business consultant

Leonardo: Had any good sex at the office?

Ana: Twice! Once with this cute guy in accounting. I was working late, and since I was watching his firm butt for two months and waiting to just attack him, we had sex on my desk. It was fantastic. I also had sex with a co-worker after a couple of drinks. I found out later that he was married. After the deed, he became a pain in the ass for two months… making dirty jokes, trying to repeat the experience. His wife found out and they got divorced.

Melanie: A couple of time, ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!….I work in the music business and theres always these cute musicians around that I just feel like devouring! I’m a little bit slutty, but I lovvvve men! Once, I went out for two months with this guy in the shipping division. He turnout to be a stalker, calling me all the time and coming to my office to see if I was there! A total asshole.

Sandra: Only once I had a one-night-stand at an office party. The next day I was so embarrassed because al of a sudden, I was the bitch at the office. There were rumors about me having sex with every male at the party… anyway I was depressed for over a month, and broke up with my 3-year boyfriend when I told him what happened! Personally, I will never do it again!

Carlos: Its hard to meet gay men in the business world, but I had a couple of hot steamy sex sessions in the office when I began working! I’m only 26 years old, no bad experiences. I met my lover John at my firm and we’ve been going out for almost a year.
Danger and how to avoid it!

As we can see every case is different, depending the circumstances. Forget those magazine quizzes, every person is different and the emotional equation from each one of us can’t be analyzed, categorized or be understood. Realities and risk of romance at work can threaten career advancement, ruin professional relationships, cause co-worker confusion and scorn, may cause work performance to decline, lead to self-doubt and loss of objectivity, generate competition and conflicts, and generate professional conflicts of interest. To avoid such danger and minimize the risk of complication at work and more importantly your boss:

Maintain an outstanding work record, so that career advancement will not be a threat. What’s important in business is a good performance, this will be your best defense.

Keep your objectivity in business decisions. Never mix work ‘n’ pleasure when handling decisions. This will be seen as personal integrity and dignity, keeping away worker animosity and management reprisals.

Have a breakup plan when thinks get out of hand.

Anticipating potential problems is the best solution. Be a little paranoid.

Dating your boss: watch your back!

One of the biggest risks of dating on the job is falling for the BOSS! The temptation to use power by an upper executive to get you into bed is easy… remember we are human and power games in sex become a reality at work. If you break up with your superior, she may use her power to fire you or make your life in the office a living hell. If you are a secretary, remember that you have no power and in the corporate world you are seen as a minor player and easy to replace. Love in the real world is based on respect and equality. If you are a subordinate in love and work, your relationship becomes an unbalanced power struggle.

Before any emotional or sexual involvement at the office, ask yourself these questions and follow our rules to nookie at work:

What’s the potential risk to your career advancement?

Try not to date your superiors.

Make a thick wall between your personal and professional life.

If it’s a one-night nightmanre, be sure he or she understands this!

Clarify from the beginning to each other what do you want from the relationship!

Anticipate possible conflict-of-interest

Are you prepared to the possibly negative reaction from your colleagues and superiors?

Be aware of office norms about romance before anything!

Sex at work is not all that bad. The only thing is to watch your back and understand the limits of your sexual pleasure at work… enjoy!

Leonardo Calcagno, well know writer in Montreal Canada. He’s been writing for local Canadian, Americano and European e-zines and zines in French, Spanish and English for almost 5 years. More known to get hate letters from right-wing housewives and to get into fights with promoters who don’t let him interview bands! You will mostly see him eating tofu dogs and drinking Guinness with his laptop in Montreal writing another article about politics, music and sex. Graduated with a bachelor degree in International Politics with a minor on international law… his parents are still wondering why he took on a life of sex writer! Tattooed with Che, Husker Du and ARA! Played chino-Hispanic punk on Les Kalisses D’immigrant, Trash Blues on Les Tetes Reduites and now stoner rock on Your Sister ! He contributes on Freezerbox.com, Kerozen, Indymedia.org, Stooky.com, Eroticandy.com, Biotech Montreal Action, QuebecTel, Zona de Obra and other zines!

For more of Leonardo’s work, please visit www.montrealnightguide.com and www.montrealconfidential.com

Total Body Shaving Guide

Posted on August 1, 2001 by admin

By Margarita Dominguez

Margarita Dominguez wrote Hair-B-Gone a year ago, and it raised an Internet storm which helped to put the-vu on the big hit list. Now shes back with a much-requested treatment of a subject that is driving people nuts all over the world, Body Shaving!

Okay, so Im writing this article for the-vu, but I am personally more of a waxing kind of gal. Shaving is not my thing because it has to be repeated so frequently.

But two things have made me write this guide,

I have received a lot of feedback, via the-vu, from people who have had adverse reactions to waxing. These people have expressed a strong interest in reading a helpful guide to shaving the body.

Jeffrey the Barak, the-vus publisher, has informed me that enough people have hit Hair-B-Gone to populate a small country. Hair-B-Gone has been more popular than most books in Barnes and Noble.

So lets all get wet, lather up and get out our razors for an exciting trip into the world of body shaving.

Why do people want to shave their bodies?

Its mostly about sex! But also hairy men with good figures and good muscle tone want to show it off by removing their fuzz, oiling up and posing for their admirers and lovers.

Also, the waxing technique that I recommended so highly in Hair-B-Gone just isnt for everyone. It hurts too much for many folks and many more are prone to contracting folliculitis (infected hair follicles) following a wax job.

Then there is the aspect of the shaving procedure itself. Whilst waxing is endured or tolerated for its end result, it is apparent that people enjoy shaving their bodies. It can be a sexual experience in itself, whether done alone, or performed upon a partner. There are many mens magazines featuring women being shaved and women who are already shaved, and in the male gay community, mutual shaving is a common form of sexual foreplay.

When asked about hair removal, adult movie performers generally say they go for shaving over waxing for the maintenance of a hair free look. If they wax, and they are waiting for a long enough re-growth for the next waxing, it can interfere with their readiness to work.

About the research for this article! Hold on to your hats!

It would have been irresponsible of me to make this stuff up and have it published on the Internet so I decided to do some serious research and experimentation. For my research I assembled the following ingredients:

* My boyfriend
* Some razors and shaving gel
* And an outgoing male gay couple!

I used my boyfriend as a laboratory. He was hairy and now he isnt! Lucky for him he was able to have his chest shaved without getting a rash or folliculitis from the re-growth. I have to admit I liked the feel of a naked shaved man, but I have to warn you that any flab or lack of tone around the middle looks much worse without hair to disguise it!

I actually preferred him before the shave, so I broke up with him and kicked him out. I can be brutal sometimes! Actually Im only kidding, there was another reason to get rid of that guy! Enough said.

The gay couple came in handy to explain the appeal of the shaving act itself. My funny friends shave each other three to four times weekly and they say it always leads to sex. Aside from the mutual shave being practical, (they can each get their backs shaved) they say its essential for games involving baby oil and what they referred to as snake fights. These guys have very good physiques and when they insisted on revealing them to me in their entirety, their total hairless beauty mesmerized me. I showed them my own fabulous waxed hairless body but it didnt hold the same appeal to them as their own overwhelmingly male bodies, so unfortunately for me, nothing happened as usual!

Basics.

Body shaving is best achieved if these basic rules are followed.

Wash the skin first with warm, not hot, not cold, water so that the skin is very clean.
Stand in the bathtub so you dont make a mess. (Men use a drain basket so you dont clog the drains.)
Use a new blade or new disposable razor. The sharper it is the less it will nick.
Let the shaving gel work on the skin before beginning the shave.
Do a section at a time, not the whole body at once!
Pull loose skin taut with the fingers of the hand that isnt holding the razor.
Dont press! The lightest touch will shave just as close as a dig but will be less likely to cut the skin.
Hairy men, for your first shave, reduce the length of the body hair with a beard trimmer or hair clippers or scissors, but keep those blades off the skin itself.
Avoid the temptation to attempt shaving your own back. Sideways movement of a razor will make a straight cut through your skin.
If its called after-shave, its alcohol and its going to sting and hurt. All after-shave smells terrible anyway! Buy some witch-hazel to use after your shave. This amazing natural liquid will reduce razor-burn and help prevent the open pores from becoming infected or producing acne. Dont use pore-clogging cream after your shave!

So lets get down to it, the head to toe guide to body shaving!

Head

I personally think a rotary shaver is better for the head because it is the ultimate curved object, but if you use a razor, be careful not to lose an eyebrow! Use the fingertips of your other hand to feel for areas that still have stubble. Women, you can also shave your heads! Remember when movie star Bai Ling went from four foot long straight black hair to smooth and bald? Try a bald head and assorted wigs for various occasions. Its a great solution for alopecia, and the entire scalp is of course an erogenous zone when its hairless.

Face and Neck

Men do this everyday and are rewarded with that five oclock shadow. Thats why women must never ever shave their faces! Sorry shaving fans, but ladies MUST get waxed or threaded. See Hair-B-Gone
Ears are better dealt with using a rotary shaver but you can also use your wet razor on those coarse wild hairs.

Neck (back of)

Normally the stubbly feel at the back of the neck is quite desirable, but if your scalp is smooth, shave your neck. This should be left for your assistant to do if you are having your back shaved.

Shoulders

Like the chest, re-growth here can be irritating, so once you start, keep it smooth. Best done by an assistant.

Arms and hands

Its easy to shave your less dominant arm and hand with your dominant hand. It feels weird for a right handed person to hold a razor in the left, but youll get used to it because youll be doing this at least twice a week from now on.

Back

When shaving your partners back, (dont shave your own unless you really have to,) remember not to press down with the razor. You wont be able to feel the pressure because its not your back!

Underarms

Women are used to this, but guys, dont press with the blade and relax to let the hollow out. Repeat with a rinsed blade up to five times without pressing!

Chest or breasts

If you are a man with thick dark curly chest hair, the re-growth here will kill you! After you become bald-chested, exfoliate daily in the shower with a scrunchy to make sure you dont get blocked follicles, which can become infected. If you do get folliculitis go straight to the doctor for antibiotics. During the shave, be very careful not to cut your nipples. Often there is coarse hair right at the nipples edge which should be shaved with great care and precision.

Tummy

Its like your chest, only lower and hopefully flatter. Luckily its less sensitive than your chest and less likely to become infected or irritated.

Pubic Area

If you have shaved the rest of your body bald, why not lose the pubes? You might see the reappearance of that old appendix scar you had forgotten about! I recommend a porn star landing strip, which is a straight edged vertical rectangle of short pubic hair, dead center, directly above your equipment. No pubic hair is also an erotic look, especially on a female. Im bald there myself and Im always admiring myself in the mirror.

Guys, if you are keeping an area of pubic hair, keep it trimmed short and have the edges dead straight. Also, having a tiny bald area just above where your shaved penis joins your body will make your penis appear longer!

Bikini area

Okay, were discussing body shaving here. Theres no excuse not to include the bikini area, which is adjacent to the pubic, genital and anal areas. No one likes to see hair sticking out of your briefs if your chest is bald!

Genitals (male)

Ive done this to a guy and Ive watched two guys do this to each other. Its not as scary as you may think! Pull the penis if it isnt erect and gently shave the hairy part of the shaft near the body end. Shave towards the body. Move the penis from left to right to get in all the corners. By the way, If youve just shaved your shaft, youve just made it look longer! Stretch the skin of the balls as you gently shave them. Get the tops of the legs adjacent to the scrotum while youre down there. A good way to test for missed stubble is to use the sensitive tongue and lips to feel for rough areas afterwards!

Genitals (female)

You can shave the labia without much danger of nicks and cuts, as long as youre gentle with that blade. Use the fingertips of your other hand to feel for missed stubble. Repeat as soon as you can feel a re-growth. If you get razor bumps, exfoliate with a wet warm washcloth. No need to get too rough with it, just enough to break the pores free. Unless youre pure Chinese, this is tough curly hair and it will be re-appearing in a day or two.

Perineum and anus

Between your genitals and anus is an area you shouldnt miss. Once youre shaved, youre more likely to receive visitors down there. When shaving around the anus, stretch the skin of each cheek away from the orifice to get a good pass with the blade. If you are shaving yourself, squat in the tub. Razor bumps should be prevented here, so starting the day after your shave, exfoliate with a washcloth in the shower. Keep this area shaved to avoid uncomfortable stubble. Never press the razor hard against the skin here!

By the way, if you have perfected the martial art of silent farts, the lack of hair around the anus will make it impossible to fart silently from now on. Change your diet or something!

Legs, feet and toes

Easy enough if done in small sections. Any woman will tell you that shaving up the leg, against the direction of growth will net a closer shave, but shaving down is less likely to cut you. Sometimes mens toe hair is as tough as eyebrows. If so, try soaking the feet in warm water and rubbing soap onto the toe tops for a while to prepare the skin there. No more gorilla sandals!

So there you have it you non-waxers you! Shave only in the bathroom, and clean up thoroughly afterwards.

Whats the worst that can happen?

Folliculitis! Also known as barber’s itch, pseudofolliculitis barbae, and tinea barbae. Basically this is any kind of infection in the hair follicle. The usual cause of folliculitis is the bacteria Staphylococcus (staph) or by a fungus. It may occur anywhere on the skin, as a result of injury or damage to the hair follicle caused by friction from clothing, by blockage of the follicle, or by shaving or waxing. A common cause is the sharp ends of re-growing shaved hair emerging from the follicles and curling back around to irritate the skin.

If you are unlucky enough to get this following your introduction to hairless life, keep the area clean. Avoid re-infecting yourself with contaminated clothing and washcloths. You will probably need to get a prescription for topical or oral antibiotics or antifungal lotion. It is contagious when its active and it itches so bad you will be totally miserable for weeks.

Conclusion

As the-vu’s Raymond Wells would say, There you have it! I still prefer to get waxed myself, but I have met people who either can’t stand the waxing or simply enjoy shaving and being shaved. It also has to be said that some people are quite comfortable just having hair all over the place, and that’s cool if you like that look. After all, isn’t this all about sex? We each dance to our different drummers.

Margarita Dominguez is struggling to finish writing a screenplay about road rage in modern America but keeps getting interrupted by the-vu. She maintains a hairless body and owns eight saxophones.

The Skys the Limit

Posted on August 1, 2001 by admin

By Leonardo Calcagno

Bored of having sex on the bed? Maybe you should try the kitchen, bathroom or sofa! Still bored? Try a threesome, kinky leather or sex with someone else. Or maybe you could spice it up by having sex on an airplane, instantly becoming a Mile High Club member. Everybody has at lease once heard about stories of people having sex on planes, if not with those cute air hostesses and stewards, a cute single traveler or your vacationing partner. A lot of people brag about having sex in an airplane, but most of them are just talking shit….still the Mile High Club is real, very popular and something worth considering.

To become a Mile High Club member you need to be engaged in sexual intercourse at an attitude of at least 5,280 feet. Some people will tell you that you need to be at the controls of an airplane while having sex, but those who have performed in lavatories aboard a plane are welcome members. What better way to get a sex scoop than from a pilot, so I made a couple of calls and talked with Captain A. McDonald, a commercial airline pilot who works for a Canadian mega-airline (guess which one).

Leonardo: Who’s the founder of the Mile High Club?

Captain McDonald: It’s Lawrence Sperry, the inventor of the automatic pilot. He’s was a rich handsome pilot that died at age 31. I’m not sure exactly when was the first time, but it’s around 1915-17.

I’ve heard some pilots saying that the “real” Mile High Club members are the ones in control of an airplane

Yes, thats true. For a long time, pilots were exclusively members. But with millions of people flying all over the world, the club has expended to everybody in an airplane.

Are you a member?

Yes! I was single at the time. I’m married now.

Have you heard about the actual Mile High Club? What do they do?

It’s pretty much a club like any other club. They have events, sell t-shirts, have news letters, they have these gatherings and events. They have fashion shows for civilians, who want to buy air service clothing.

You are telling me that theres an airplane fetish going on?

I guess you can call it that; its some kind of fetish. There are people that steal things off airplanes to sexually fantasize about air hostesses. There are always stories about travelers trying to have sex with them, or trying to buy their scarf or underwear. Girls come to the cockpit and slip us invitations with room numbers for wild sex. It must be the uniform.

Is it true that having sex in higher altitudes allows for bigger orgasms?

[Laughs] I don’t know if you get a bigger orgasm but it’s true that the high air pressure does something to your body and when you cum it’s pretty amazing. The only thing is that you get this tremendous pleasure, hard to describe if you have never done it in a plane.

I got to try it! What’s the most common place for sex?

The toilet is the best place, some use the covers to play with each other and others give blow jobs under it.

What happen if you get caught?

You’re under arrest. We call the nearest local airport police in our route and they pick you up. It’s a $500 fine and youre charged with sex in a public place. You also lose your flight.

Is there a technique or something special you need to have sex in the bathroom?

You can’t be fat, that’s one! Its very easy to get stuck. If you only knew how many people get stuck in the bathroom. Be very flexible to enjoy your experience. Don’t start screaming when you get to orgasm: that will give you away. Don’t get drunk, you may hurt yourself….that pretty much raps it up.

What’s your more interesting sex story?

I was just beginning my pilot career, it was a flight from Montreal to Rome. I went to the bathroom and to chat with the air hostess. In the corner of my eyes I spotted two beautiful dark hair Italians looking at me and smiling with this lusty look and I smiled back, just to be polite. I went back to the cockpit, and after 20 minutes one of the air hostess brought me a note with a picture….it was a invitation to a threesome with the two Italian girls, one of them was waiting for me in the toilet. So I went.

Is their a way to have sex on a plane without being in trouble?

There are travel agencies that specialized in the Mile High Club around the States. I don’t know any in Canada. The other way is to get a private plane and book it for a sex. extravaganza. This way you wont break the law.

Can this agency be used for prostitution?

Yeah, sure. There are travel agencies specializing in pedophilia travel, I wouldn’t be surprised if they could use an agency for air prostitution. But that wouldn’t qualify “legally” as a Mile High Club practice.

Does every air personnel have an in-flight sex experience?

95% of personnel has had some sexual encounter. There are a lot of parties and lonely nights away from home…. and people love air hostess and pilots, so it’s normal that you get action.

How to become a member [Taken from the milehighclub.com]

1- Call your local travel agent and book a flight to wherever, it doesn’t matter.

2- Get ready to negotiate your seat assignment for one closer to your unsuspecting passenger. Hint: don’t offer your blanket and pillows, because you’ll need them.

3- Wait for the movie to start before you start your own movie. You don’t want to get arrested for indecent exposure aboard an airline.

4- Before you start your aerial pleasures, make sure you are at least 5,280ft AGL [a mile high above the earth], just to make it official.

5- And don’t forget to share this intimate experience with the MileHighClub.com.

Company that offer flights to couple the Mile High Club experience:

Some of you who maybe interested to live such experience, and are embarrassment to make your move, here are some air line agency’s:

Fantasie Aloft
San Jose, California
(408) 275-8500
e-mail: thunderbirdaviation@earthlink.net

New York Aviation Corporation
La Guardia Airport, NY
(718) 279-4000
e-mail: n_y_aviation@earthlink.net

Camelot Air Tours
Arvada, Colorado
(888) 802-9418
E-mail: eaarth@ibm.net

Flamingo airlines
Cincinnati, Ohio
(606) 802-6889
E-mail: flamingoair@lunken.com

Aero-Tech Inc.
Lexington, Kentucky
(606) 254-8906
E-mail: arlynn@mis.net

Captain Bud Fuchs Trimotor Air Tours
Long Beach, California
(800) 493-3003
E-mail: Trimotor2@aol.com

For more of Leonardo’s work, please visit www.montrealnightguide.com and www.montrealconfidential.com

Vulva U

Posted on August 1, 2001 by admin

By Leonardo Calcagno

The best way to for a guy to know the secrets of womanhood is to go to school. Just like some women need to get closer with their sexuality because of social or personal repression, men also can benefit from a bit of libido lessons. Sexuality is part of humanity and we are all very horny all the time, especially guys who, alas, don’t know shit about women. I went and talked to Dorrie Lane, the director of Vulva University. She will helps us refresh our sex lives and make us all vulvalutionaries. Her classes are mostly for women, but guys are welcome to join.

Leonardo: What’s Vulva University?

Dorrie Lane: Vulva University is an education site for sex through the eyes of women. It is primarily focussed on women’s issues around sex, all kinds of sex. All of our instructors are women. The 3 R’s of Vulva University are: Refresh your libido, Rejuvenate your sexual desire, and Realize your sexual potential.

and House O’Chicks?

House O’Chicks is my company I started 10 years ago, to respond to the negative images of women as sexual beings. I am producing a video encyclopedia of “Sex Through the Eyes of Women,” to help dispel those negative images for women. I also created the Wondrous Vulva Puppet to give expression to our sexual feelings.

Is their something wrong with girls and their sexuality?

There is nothing wrong with girls and their sexuality, it’s society’s attitude, the media’s influence on body images of women and the way sex or sexuality is referenced by the powerful moral and media machines. Girls are getting the wrong or no message at all.

If you want to enroll to your university, what are the conditions?

Enrollment is free, and open to everyone, you register and select how you want to receive the classes, either online with a password into the lessons or through your email. You can select any class you want. We have a discussion board for each class too.

How can women develop their sexual potential?

First by not feeling negative or shameful about sex, then to experience the positive and self-healing aspects of sex. So many women are sexual in very limiting ways, many to satisfy others and not themselves. Many are limiting their experiences because of the “whore/madonna” label, (not the pop icon, she is vulvalutionary) or guilt and shame. Sex is used as a weapon too, which is contrary to the love potential.

Can you give us some pointers in masturbation?

Sure, the first pointer is the ability to understand your body through masturbation, how it responds to different touch in different places. Another area of exploration is the process of healing yourself through masturbation. I’m talking about menstrual cramps, sadness, headaches, common aches and pains not cancers and serious diseases, I don’t want you to get the impression that masturbation is that powerful, but on a deeper level, self loving is the basis for a loving life. In the masturbation class, which I teach, I stress the importance of self acceptance, of releasing shame, and of course plenty of techniques and resources.

and the G-Spot?

A woman needs to know she has one first, then she needs to know how to keep it healthy. The G-spot is highly controversial because the medical books that most med. schools use haven’t been updated in well over 50 years and the sexual anatomy of women is outdated, so of course the 2-3 hours of sexual anatomy med. students receive is no great asset to providing good information and therefore, supporting its existence.

and your class “Lesbian Sex 101″?

This class is an introduction to Lesbian sex, the teachers, Mikaya Heart and Kyree Klimist are sensitive to and speak to women who are curious about the social and emotional aspects of being with a woman sexually. The advance courses go into more detail on the sexual levels and techniques. Again, all the courses are presented in a non-judgemental way.

Do you think that men have a lack of sexual education?

I think EVERYONE has a lack of sexual education.

Do you have any famous Vulva student’s?

I don’t reveal my student’s names or identity.

What does a lack of sexual knowledge do to men and women?

It restrains your potential, it creates confusion on many levels, for women, who equate sex with love, it can be emotionally damaging. For men, who equate sex with power, a lack of sexual knowledge can leave them powerless.

Where can we enroll?

You can enroll at http://www.houseochicks.com/

For more of Leonardo’s work, please visit www.montrealnightguide.com and www.montrealconfidential.com

The Myth of the Divorced Woman

Posted on March 1, 2001 by admin

By Lauri Jean Crowe

As a woman whos been separated from her husband for months and contemplating divorce, I have been pondering sex even more than usual. (Hard to imagine I know!) Will I be the divorced woman with all the mythos of a promiscuous she-bitch in heat looking to use men for her whims and toss them away? Not that this is all bad, but it seems it would preclude any sort of serious involvement if this stereotype persists. So, how does one go about debunking the myth?

My Aunt certainly did not know how. She was the stereotype. Divorced, two kids, and planting her lips, bottom and whatever else could accept a penis on everything available in age range 17 to 65. She had no strict criteria, just that they have a relatively functioning penis and a desire to let her play with it. She was of course, also a drunk and taking prescription painkillers along with anti-depressants to get over her failed marriage.

My aunt went from bar to bar, in her hometown, embarrassing the whole family as she stroked, sucked, licked and flicked just about every available male. Some even speculated that she would scope out high school schoolyards and she did tell a tale of stopping her vehicle aside a boy on a bike and asking him if hed like to go and screw. Which he did. What young boy would turn down such an offer from a slender, willing woman at such an impressionable and awkward age. Enter Mrs. Robinson.

My Aunt has since ended up with a man old enough to be her father, whos equipment no longer functions but who is willing to spend his life savings on a variety of sex toys for her pleasure. She no longer has to hunt, except from the privacy of her home via catalogues and the web. We all have our own definitions of satisfaction and happiness.

Still, all divorced women arent like that. Some, such as the soon to be divorced me, actually still seek monogamous relationships with a focus on both monogamy and relationship despite how bad their marriages were. All divorced women are not just oversexed vixens looking for a quick one-nighter without a name. Some of us actually want safe sex rather than just sex, sex, sex. However, I fear we are a strange and rare breed because the stereotype of the divorcee exists and is perpetuated in modern films like American Pie. Not only does the divorced woman drink, nowadays she is a worldly woman of means who preys on teenagers for gratification that an older man cant give her. She wants them when she can train them. Nice thought on the training aspect, but still I would prefer a man who has experience in pleasuring a woman that way I get the benefit of his expertise, I simply do not want the benefit of his socially contracted diseases.

Unfortunately I dont think there is any way to debunk the myth of the divorced woman because it is too easy a trap to fall into. Women with failed marriages often have low self-esteem and a quick way to bolster it is through the attentions of men, the more the better. Others are just angry, like my friend Lana who says, I’m honestly not familiar with the stereotypical divorced woman. I don’t think I was typical. I reveled in my freedom, and targeted several of his friends for seduction. I was very bitter and angry towards him, and was bent on revenge. I didn’t think beyond hurting him.

Fortunately, advances in protection like female condoms and spermicides, and the fact that some of these recently divorced women are worldly and wise will decrease the incidence of unwanted mid-thirty and mid-forty something pregnancies. Still, I cant help but think that I would much rather be seen for the reality of who I am, rather than the myth of endless women who have paraded their wares before me at a much lower price.

Interview
Meet Rachel. She is divorced, and teeters between sleeping with men who are inappropriate for her, and staying celibate. Learn what she has to tell the-vu about the myth of the divorced woman from her own perspective and why shed still sleep with her ex-husband if he knocked on the door!

LJCROWE: You were married for 3 years, did you choose the divorce?

RACHEL: I did, but I also tried to work things out and get back together at various times over the years. Most recently, about 3 1/2 years ago, I went on a “family” vacation with him and got pregnant with my youngest child. He decided that he did not want to reconcile after all.

Was sex a factor of your breakup?

No, sex was not a factor. Sex with my ex-husband was great. I’d sleep with him right now, if he knocked on my door. We broke up because he was never home, didn’t want to work, lied, and basically acted like an irresponsible child. He also used drugs when he was not at home and I did not want to be around that – sometimes he was frightening.

Did either of you cheat during the marriage?

Once, when he did not come home for 3 days, I went out with a girlfriend and kissed a stranger. I didn’t suspect him of cheating at the time, but I do now.

How did you approach sex after the marriage dissolved?

I still had sex with my ex-husband. I had sex with the man that I lived with. I had sex with my sister’s brother-in-law, who I actually do love, but he was not ready for a relationship, so that kind of contributed to that broken feeling. I then went through this really dry period. I had sex with someone on my 29th birthday and then did not have any again until I went on that fateful family camping trip and got pregnant with my daughter. Then, it was another two years wait. I get lonely, but sometimes my fears are larger than my desire. Does that make sense?

Im sure it does to many divorced women whove been hurt. Were you afraid of being stigmatized as the divorced woman stereotypically out for sex with anything that moves?

Heck, I am the stereotype. To a point. I am choosy, but I tend to sleep with men who are inappropriate. For example, way too young (but legal) or not exactly single. I sleep with men who I do not necessarily want to have a relationship with. I don’t sleep with a lot of men, but I have been single for a long time (7 1/2 years) and I get lonely. I always tell myself that I’m not doing it again, that I won’t have sex without love. Then, my friend Jim will call and I’ll say, “Hey, wanna come over?” I think that I want to be in love again, but the reality is that I feel broken after my divorce. I am afraid to get that close to someone again. So, I sleep with men who are friends of mine and are also not looking for a relationship.

Do you seek mainly quality or quantity?

When I was younger, I was more of a quantity person, but after having my kids, I am much more respectful of myself. I have casual relationships, but I do not sleep with strangers – only friends. There is a man that I am interested in now, but he is not single – see there’s that inappropriate thing again. I have not done anything about my attraction to him. I write about it, it’s a great motivator for fiction, but I don’t want to break up anyone’s relationship. I bet I sound like a nut. He is exactly the kind of person that I would like to have a relationship, he is my neighbor, so I see him almost daily.

Did you ever think about remarrying?

No, I didn’t remarry. I did live with a boyfriend for a short time, about 6 months after the break up of my marriage. He was an old friend that I felt comfortable with, but I realized that he had changed quite a bit and asked him to leave.

How is your sex life now in comparison to when you were married?

I have currently been celibate since April. Yuck. I’m currently in one of those darn holding-out-for-love patterns. I hate when I am like that.

Do you think the stereotype of the divorced woman can be debunked or will always exist?

I’m not sure how powerful that stereotype is, in this day and age. Do people really think about divorced women’s sex drives that much? I got the impression that they were more worried about women raising their kids without fathers in the home, than how often divorced moms have sex. I can only speak from my own experience. I think that if a divorced woman had a good sex life with her ex, then she is going to be interested in having sex still. If she had a bad sex life, then maybe she is willing to wait for the real thing. Then again, maybe if she had a bad sex life, she may actually be MORE interested in finding MORE sex. Who knows? Depends on the woman. I think that some stereotypes are actually the way things are.

Lauri Jean Crowe is a freelance writer known for such diverse topics as dreams, sexuality, gardening, health and parenting. She is a freelance writer, artist and designer living in Michigan, USA.

First Bondage: The Story of Ellen

Posted on February 1, 2001 by admin

By Lauri Jean Crowe

She is a woman. She is a faithful wife of seven years. She is a mother. She practices attachment parenting with her infant. She trusts her husband. She cant talk about what she wants in bed. Shes looked at bondage sites on the internet over her husbands shoulder. She is thirty years old. She has a 7 year itch. She likes getting bound. She could be your neighbor. She tells the-vu what she cannot bring herself to say to even her closest friends. She is Ellen. Here is a look at Ellen, unbound:

LJC: When did you first begin experimenting with bondage?

ELLEN: This past year. I think it is part 7 year itch and part just an effort to get my husband more interested in sex. I have a high sex drive and he has not been able to keep up lately. He has a job which really unmans him, exhausts him (80 hour weeks for the last 3 years, and just saps his will.

So, you suggested bondage to help titilate him and get him revved up after those 80 hour weeks?

A while back, I found him looking at bondage sites on the internet. It seemed to excite him and with much chagrin, I can admit, that it piqued my interest a bit. It was an act of courage to tell him that we could try it. I pondered it a long time. What if I did not like it and he did? If he wanted to do it all the time and I didn’t? There were a hundred other “what-ifs” mostly trust issues.

Recognizing all those what-ifs Im assuming youve had experience with bondage before?

I had a boyfriend in college who was really into the idea of bondage and domination, but I was too timid (in my younger days) to try it. He pressured me and the relationship broke up. I did not want to risk that. My husband is my primary relationship… still the love of my life after seven years. The stakes were very high.

So, your first real bondage experience was with your husband of 7 years. What sort of bondage have you two experimented with?

He’s into ropes and scarves. I own a pile of silk scarves (have for years for fashion purposes). He is an avid sailor and has studied knot tying (for sailing and general interest). He has done a fair amount of research into Japanese art bindings. We do try to use soft rope because otherwise it leaves marks.

So, youre the one whose being bound all the time?

I keep promising him that I am going to tie him up some day, but I have not gotten around to it yet. I have yet to figure out what one can do to a man who is tied up that one cannot do to a man who is not tied up. In some ways, I don’t understand what the attraction for tying someone up is.

But you do understand what the attraction of being bound is, dont you?

I am generally not able to communicate what I want in bed. I just
cannot talk about it. I can’t say the words. I think that, in a way, bondage is freeing for me. I don’t have to do anything, I can just lay back and take it.

No, you dont have to do anything when youre bound, but is there anything about you experiences with bondage that make you uncomfortable?

I guess most of what we do is kind of tame. We have played with the pain angle, mainly biting and I admit, it does have its attractions, but the bruises are difficult to explain to my five year old, as are the ropes in the bedroom.

Some of the bondage sites Ive seen on the internet are very explicit and some are even violent. Are you ever worried that your husband will get too carried away?

(grinning wickedly) I am not afraid. This is my husband, I know he’d never hurt me, well, not unless I want him to. It is a profound expression of our trust for one another. I generally imagine him doing more eclectic things than he actually does… I cannot say that I actually want him to do those things, though. Fantasy is good… an integral part of the sex act.

How integral is bondage to your regular sex life? Is there a facet of bondage that is regularly practiced in your bedroom?

Some mild bondage is. He will often hold my wrist down or behind me when we have sex. Sometimes I hold his shoulders down, or bite.

How often do you practice more intense sexual bondage with scarves and ropes?

About once a month for the time consuming stuff. We do attachment parenting and have an infant who shares the family bed, so we can’t have fun until she’s asleep. Between the baby and my husband’s heavy work schedule, we don’t have sex much anyway.

Is sex with bondage more orgasmic for you that sex without bondage?

No… not really. It is actually a bit less orgasmic for me. He does not know how to stimulate my body as well as I do… but our love making is a work in progress. We teach each other, we learn from each other.

What advice do you have for other women who are just starting out in the erotic play of sexual bondage?

For a woman, trust is very important. This is not something most women can do with someone that they do not trust. Don’t do anything that makes you really uncomfortable, but be willing to push your limits a little.

Speaking of limits, do you think being submissive in bed puts you at a disadvantage in the relationship?

I tend to be a very dominant sort of personality. I run the kids, the finance and the house. I have to. He is a sailor and that means he is away. I must be independent. I must be strong. He has never diminished me as a person for being what I need to be, but this gives him an overt way of being the stronger, more dominant one. It’s balance.

So, you would say that bondage has enhanced your relationship with your husband, then?

Though I am the one being tied up, the act binds us together. Men often define themselves by their sexual prowess. We had several years after the birth of my first where I was disinterested. If I did not want him, it was a blow to his self esteem and conversely, if I do want him and I am willing to go to lengths to interest him, it means that he is worthwhile as a man. While I don’t think he thinks in these terms, I can see the change in him. He is less beaten down from work and more the man I fell in love with.

Thanks to Ellen for sharing this very personal look at her experiences with sexual bondage in the security of a stable, seven year relationship with her husband. Hopefully it will help the readers of The-Vu see that erotic bondage is not just a means of control, domination and power, but that it can be an expressive gateway for love. Maybe it will inspire a few of you to invest in some silk scarves and rope

(c) December 2000, Lauri Jean Crowe

Lauri Jean Crowe is a freelance writer known for such diverse topics as dreams, sexuality, gardening, health and parenting. She is a freelance writer, artist and designer living in Michigan, USA.

Erotic Play: Biting for Love

Posted on February 1, 2001 by admin

By Lauri Jean Crowe

Teeth gnash. Teeth bite. Teeth mash. Teeth can titillate. The average mature adult has thirty-two of these shining enamel pearls in their moist mouths. I have twenty-four one for every hour of the day. You see, my jaw just wasnt big enough to hold them all so I had eight removed as a child. As an adult I value the twenty-four I have; they allow me to masticate and take in all the pleasures of eating, tasting, chewing, and sex. Yes, sex.

There is something utterly primal about being bitten. If its a dog or a wolf it can be frightening, terrifying. Even more so when it is a human being with all of societies taboos against cannibalism. When you think of teeth you think of fangs; teeth equal vampires, monsters, nightmares, wild beasts. Teeth are the things which make you close the doors and windows tight at night. But what about the door to the bedroom? What if that sheep in wolfs clothing suddenly takes a nip at your nipple? Erotic biting can bring all those terrors into your mind and turn them into unimaginable pleasures. That is, unless youve already been bitten. Then you can not only imagine, but deliciously recall those moments of intense stimulation.

I remember the first time I was bitten. It was in the early days of my blooming sexuality. I was nineteen and a lover leaned in and bit my nipple at the point of orgasm. It was intense. My first thought was outrage, my next was ahhhhhhh, that followed with I think Id like more of that. Unfortunately that lover left almost as quickly as the sensation of that first bite and it wasnt until I met my husband that biting was again a factor of lovemaking.

He asked permission. I acquiesced. It was an exploration into a realm of intense erotic stimulation I didnt even know existed except for that one quick bite years prior. He began at the nape of my neck, a quick nip followed by a tongue trailing down my vertebra. Then another bite just along the center of the spine. Then another, down a bit further, always followed by that tongue leading the way to the next delicious bite. When he got to the small of my back, I had climaxed twice already without any form of penetration. That first time had me screaming for more, and screaming with intense pleasure. He went slowly, gently, with soft gentle nips and twists of the tongue.

Since then, much of my body has been privy to his bite. Theres no region I have barred, but there is always a safety net. There is always a point where I can say no. It has been rare that I have wanted to. Intense stimulation is just that, and those of us who enjoy it know that biting can be a passionate discourse into erotica. For those who are just beginning the journey into intense stimulation and erotic biting, you should be aware that certain guidelines need to be set:

1. Have a safety word. Make this word something that you wouldnt normally say during sex. Choose the latin name of a flower (gypsophalia) or an everyday object (stove). If the biting becomes more pain that pleasure, or simply too intense you have a safeguard, can scream the word and the biting stops then and there.

2. Know your partner well. Make sure he or she will abide by the safety word. If not, you can be in danger of physical harm. Erotic biting is not something to engage in with a random you picked up at the bar. It entails trust and trust can only be garnered in a more intimate, regular relationship.

3. Go slow. Biting can be dangerous. You should not have open wounds after a session of this form of erotic play, however you may have slight red discolorations which will fade or even bruises depending on how ardent your bitemate is.

4. Recognize that biters usually dont like to be bitten. Biting back can be a complete buzz kill. Biting is more often than not about control, it is not out and out combat with the teeth.

5. Have a first aid kit on hand with some triple antibiotic and Band Aids. In case your lover gets a bit too vicious, or accidentally breaks the skin in the midst of sexual fervor you should immediately wash the area, apply triple antibiotic and a bandage so that infection doesnt set it. A human bite can be just as, or even more deadly as one from an animal such as a dog.

On an end note, erotic biting may seem like a safe sex alternative, however the mouth harbors many germs. If you engage in genital biting you run the same risks of STD and HIV infection as if you were penetrated. The mouth often has small tears in the gums or tongue which can easily transmit not only bacteria, but blood, regardless of if you are the recipient of a wound from erotic biting. Be wary, be careful and if you do have your lover bite your clitoris or penis or other sensitive areas such as the nipples be sure that you know your lovers communicable status which is always a good idea in any time of relationship but especially in those of intense stimulation where control is often a factor. It may be your lovers idea to control the spread of his own disease while getting off on biting you. Dangers exist in any sexual situation. Take precautions. That said, teeth gnash. Teeth bite. Teeth mash. Teeth can titillate. Let them!

Lauri Jean Crowe is a freelance writer known for such diverse topics as dreams, sexuality, gardening, health and parenting. She is a freelance writer, artist and designer living in Michigan, USA.

Losing My Cherry

Posted on February 1, 2001 by admin

By Lauri Jean Crowe

Losing your cherry. This isnt a matter of it falling off the spoon of your ice cream sundae, its about losing your virginity. Its about the first time you have penetrative sex. Its about being a teenager or a young adult. Its about being scared and fascinated and for me it was about curiosity and boredom. I was a late bloomer. Although most of my friends were having sex from middle school on, some of those accompanied by teen pregnancies, I didnt even think about boys, or girls.

In my first year of college I didnt think much about sex either. But it apparently thought about me a lot, whispering in the minds of my dorm mates and men at the clubs where I danced with my friends. Finally, at nineteen I decided to do it. Im not sure why, I was just kind of bored and curious two reasons which arent especially good for having sex. I also wanted to see what all the hype was about, and have it over with. The big deal of virginity suddenly became a burden and I wanted it over with. But, having no steady relationship I had no idea how to go about it. I was naive, half the time I didnt even know that men were interested in me until jealous girlfriends would approach me full claws ready for a fight.

However, one Thursday night I simply had sex. I was at the bar with some of my friends, most of whom were male. Bonz, our resident stoner was there, and Craig the guy who played drums and lived in my dorm, Rick who I played gin rummy with when I was too drunk to care that I didnt know how, Killer who was so named because he was such a meek and wimpy fellow, and then there was Dave. Dave was the new guy, one of Bonz friends from his fraternity and who liked to dance as much as I did. We had been drinking quarter beers for almost two hours and INXS came on playing What You Need. Cheesy as that song was, Dave and I hobbled out on the dance floor and danced to it and suddenly he pulled me down and kissed me. Now, when I say pulled me down I mean literally to the floor because I almost six foot two and he was maybe five foot six on tippy toe. Still, it felt good.

We didnt finish the dance but soon went home because they cut off the quarter beer and we were buzzed enough as it was. In the car, Dave kept flirting with me, pawing at me and when he ended up getting out with Craig and I we just ended up in my room on the daybed kissing. Next thing you know, clothes are on the floor and I realize that my roommate Wendy whos been watching TV had decided to go into the other room. Poor Wendy, the girl who had so much facial hair she actually had a beard had to be privy to my drunken first lust.

Sex was awkward. He was very short and I was very tall and we were both drunk. Mainly I recall flailing around a lot, laughing and kissing. We at some point ended up in the bathroom because my other roommate Ronda had come back from the bar and couldnt locate her keys. We let her in and locked ourselves in the bathroom where we somehow managed actual penetration up against the bathroom sink. From that point it was a few thrusts and it was over in seeming minutes although my roommates later told me we made quite a racket for over an hour. It was unprotected sex. When we were finished we got dressed, he gave me his number, promised to call and he left. I went across the hall to play cards with some friends and in the middle of an excellent had of Euchre announced that I had just had sex for the first time.

There were drunk too and thought this was incredibly funny. We laughed about it and I voiced that it was no big deal, and was I missing something because it hadnt seemed that great although it felt good enough. This brought more laughter. Later all of us dormies were out at a party and I saw Dave. He wondered why I was avoiding him and hadnt answered his calls. I told him it just wasnt that great for me. He was stunned and kept asking people for months if I was pregnant or something, because he just couldnt get why I wasnt calling him back.

I hope that others out there have had better first experiences with sex and didnt just do it because they were bored. I hope there still exists the quaint couple who get to be each others first partners and experience the mysteries of sex through sober, loving eyes. For me, it was no big deal which I suppose in some ways worked in my favor. I didnt become the promiscuous dorm girl that many of my friends did doing everyone in the dorm. I actually held off having sex for almost another year until I was in a loving relationship and thats when I found what I truly enjoy about sex which is the partnership of the act.

Looking back I dont regret that first time, but I do wish I had been smarter. I was lucky. I came away from it unscathed, with no sexually transmissible disease; no pregnancy, no after effects except a great game of Euchre which wasnt uncommon for me anyhow. Others out there arent so lucky. If youre thinking about having sex for the first time, think hard, dont just think about his hardness or her softness. Think with your mind, not your loins. Sex does have consequences and your first time will no doubt place a certain image of sex in your mind which will hold through in your other relationships. Be careful. Be aware. Be sober. But, most of all dont give that cherry to the first spoon that comes along ready to taste your forbidden fruits.

Lauri Jean Crowe is a freelance writer known for such diverse topics as dreams, sexuality, gardening, health and parenting. She is a freelance writer, artist and designer living in Michigan, USA.

The Fine Art of Fellatio

Posted on January 1, 2001 by admin

By Lauri Jean Crowe

I can peel the skin off a grape with my mouth. No hands. A gentle twisting of tongue, careful play of the teeth and a movement of the cheek and there lies a beautiful green orb of pulpy flesh waiting to be squeezed and juiced. You say, so what? You must be one of those people who knows other people who can tie knots in cherries with their tongue, something I admittedly cannot do. However, learning to peel grapes with only the tool of my mouth was a wonderful excursion in learning skills to improve fellatio.

The first time I ever gave head, I was naive. I didnt know what was wanted, needed, or what wonderful thrills my little mouth could give to a penis and the man attached to it. I mistakenly used my teeth. I drooled to the point of embarrassment. I sucked too hard or not enough. I just couldnt seem to get it. Unlike many blessed individuals out there in the world of sex, I was not a natural born blow jobber.

So, I learned. As a teen I saw Fast Times at Ridgemont High with its vegetable training session and I knew many a girl who practiced long before ever engaging in fellatio on the carrots, cucumbers and other lengthy veggies in their mommas fridge. Perhaps that helped them, but it made me feel ridiculous. I mean, a penis is really not so drastically tapered as a carrot, nor so orange and crisp. I figured there were three things to do, watch porn, learn more about my mouth and practice on a live model. Ive gotten pretty good at giving head and it didnt take long. So, heres some tips and suggestions for those just starting out in the wonderful world of fellatio or those who need a refresher course:

1. Keep your focus on the penis. Dont think about what youre during, just feel the movements of your mouth and his flesh. This intense focus can guarantee a decent head job even if you are completely naive like I was. Focus is in your favor, and his. Delete all other thoughts from your mind and just explore the penis.

2. Never lose contact with the penis. This means if your tongue or cheeks arent in contact with it, your hand or breath should be. Hot breath on a penis can be just as provocative as a long deep thrust to the back of your mouth. Dont let that rascal lose once you have it in your possession.

3. Learn to nose breathe. Breathing through your mouth will lead to a sloppy drooling mess. You can practice this sans penis at any time. Simply shut your mouth and breathe through your nostrils.

4. Watch pornography. You will find that blow jobs are so common they get redundant. Still, pornography of this sort is primarily created to arouse men and watching what women in porn do to a penis will give you some things to try out. Long strokes, short tongue ticks to the head, a deep inhalation and even the bobbing for apples approach. Try out these styles on a willing partner and eventually they will become your own.

5. Dont forget the balls. This tender area of the male anatomy also likes some attention. A gentle blow of hot air, a lick or flick of the tongue. Balls and penis go together and denying one is like someone paying attention to only one breast. Enjoy the diversity of both penis and balls in your fellatio.

6. Learn to peel grapes with your tongue, leaving the flesh of the grape whole and round. This was perhaps the best instruction I could have had. It takes great dexterity and gentleness. It takes tongue twists, sucking and a bit of nipping with the teeth. All useful skills for the fine art of fellatio.

Remember safe sex. A condom cloaked penis can get just as much pleasure from a good fellationado as an uncloaked one. Your safety should not be jeopardized for his pleasure, ever. Ever! Open lines of communication make any sexual excursion more satisfying, so dont forget to ask your lover what he wants. Does he like long, regular sucks or variation? Some men like to be gently nibbled on, others like a lot of attention on the head of the penis, some just go for deep throat pleasures. Lastly, I must say this should you forgo the safe sex of a blow job with a condom know if you spit or swallow and be discreet about it. Theres nothing more unappealing that someone who chokes and gags and then ends up vomiting (well, for a majority of the population anyhow). If you are a spitter, make sure your lover knows and ask him to indicate when hes about to climax so you can back off, if you are unable to identify this critical phase yourself. If you swallow, more power to you and youll be very popular just be sure youre safe and know what youre getting into and exactly whats getting into you.

Lauri Jean Crowe is a freelance writer known for such diverse topics as dreams, sexuality, gardening, health and parenting. She is a freelance writer, artist and designer living in Michigan, USA.

Curtain Call

Posted on December 1, 2000 by admin

“Curtain Call arose out of a dream sequence in which I was continually tied, bitten and pondering the value of love.”

By Lauri Jean Crowe

The heavy fabric opens, wide on this stage, this ancient theatre of lamp lit glass. Shadowy, the underbelly of some secret ancestry I lay on my stomach hog-tied. Butterflies dance on these ropes encasing pale boned wrists tethered by biting mouths, iridescent and flapping wings: the audience claps.

Powdery blue. They are not genitalia, they are not tense with attention. If they were their hair would be on end. They cannot feel. They want to eat my heart. I nor you know what that is. They want to feast on emptiness. They are hungry. They use to have eyes. They could teach me you us of love?

They have retractable glass nails. I feel them scraping my loins. There they leave a powdery blue glaze long fingered. I do not cringe at the touch. What can I learn? You watch, silent, pressing buttocks to blue velvet cushions. Can I give them innocence? My lost virginity? It is where the heart never lied. They have retractable glass nails. Can I offer them my long, white tongue, and its placatory licks? Can I release the ropes that I may join you?

Let us gnaw them with our passion seeking the wings on which to fly. Let us startle them from apathy, the cold reverie with which they watch the stage of their own making. The ancient mysteries of womb and birth and death relived a thousand times? What can I offer you?

They have sharpened sightless eyes at the corners of my lips. I ask what they desire, they say You created us. Tell us how to begin this, end this, we want to amuse you. They look on powdery blue. They are frozen. They are cardboard cutouts. They are the creations of a mind long mad. They are actors dancing on the edge of the stage waiting to fall, into the chasm of space that is emptiness my heart.

Who are these spectators, jailers? I writhe: I want release! I want these ropes gone! I want my breast, sweating iridescent in your butterfly lips biting until I bleed, the last drops of innocence onto a crushed glass bed. I want and want! What can I offer you? What group of actors and liars and fools am I a descendent of, what can I offer my jailers? What can I give of myself?

I want to bind my own wrists, legs, at the edge of this wide stage. At the clap of their hands roll from the curtains soft onto my back and look upward into your bite. Come, my winged one, lift your buttocks from the velvet. It is intermission and there are hearts for sale.

Lauri Jean Crowe is a freelance writer known for such diverse topics as dreams, sexuality, gardening, health and parenting. She is a freelance writer, artist and designer living in Michigan, USA.

Osculation

Posted on December 1, 2000 by admin

“I discovered this wonderful word long after I had been indulging in it’s practice.”
By Lauri Jean Crowe

Osculation. What is it? you ask as it rolls on your tongue. Osculation. A faint whisper in your ear. Osculation. A point on a curve where two branches have a common tangent but do not reverse direction. Osculation. Is it mathematics or chemistry? Osculation is the act of kissing.

Osculation with many has left me wanting to reverse direction. Too sloppy, too toothy, too much tongue or not enough. Kissing is an art form and so few place emphasis on practice intending inborn talent to do the job. However, as with any art form you need to practice whatever natural talents you have and stretch them to their boundaries until you create new forms of intimate expression of self.

As a young girl I had friends who would osculate with pillows. Practice makes perfect right? These same girls practiced other forms of open mouthed kissing on carrots and other vegetables before moving on to practice with the flesh. You can kiss a pillow, you can kiss a dog, you can even kiss a carrot with feeling but no practice is better than kissing with a partner.

However, kissing is seen as a big taboo. Even some prostitutes will only osculate with special customers, or for an added price. Why is it that the mouth on mouth act of the kiss causes such uproar? I think perhaps it goes back to the time when demons were thought to be able to enter the body through any open orifice. After all, what is more demonic that a woman in an open mouthed-osculation? Kissing is intimate. You breathe through your mouth, you eat with your mouth. You taste with your tongue. So, it is no wonder this activity is so popular and has such an allure about it.

There is nothing like the taste of your lovers tongue on yours; the sweet moisture atop a wetted lip; the sensation of a tongue exploring the inner regions of the orifice between your chin and nose. Osculation can take place anywhere. Im speaking in terms of location on the body and location in space and time. You can kiss your lover in bed each morning, or sneak a quick peck between your husband hammering nails and making dinner. You can kiss eyes, ears, toes, fingers, labia, penis, bellies, and yes, you can even kiss my ass as the slang goes.

The possibilities for osculation are endless. Osculation think about it. A point on a curve where two branches have a common tangent but do not reverse direction. Osculation. A kiss. Roll it around on your tongue for a while.

Lauri Jean Crowe is a freelance writer known for such diverse topics as dreams, sexuality, gardening, health and parenting. She is a freelance writer, artist and designer living in Michigan, USA.

Lactation Isn’t Just For Babies

Posted on December 1, 2000 by admin

By Lauri Jean Crowe

Lactation occurs when the body produces breast milk and emits that fluid through the milk ducts in the breasts. Typically it occurs around the fifth month in pregnant women and continues as long as the woman is breastfeeding or the milk ducts are being stimulated to produce milk. However, as many women know, lactation can continue long after you are done delivering your child and well after you have completed nursing your infant.

So, what do you do with leaky squirting breasts? You enjoy them just like you enjoyed your breasts prior to pregnancy. You nurture them, massage them and lavish them with love. You marvel at the fullness that lactation produces and you allow your partner to experience and partake of the joy of a lactating woman right along with you.

I recall when I first got pregnant and my husbands friend said, Wait til they squirt across the room when she has an orgasm. He had a sly smile on his face speaking of wicked thoughts he didnt wish to express further. His wife, turned down her eyes and sort of giggled. My husband and I wondered just what the big deal was, after all thus far my breasts were just a hazard when we went out, leaking through clothing and needed to be dried, mopped or padded as they dribbled fluid waiting for a babys mouth.

Then it happened. There I was, pregnant as could be, doing it dog and my nipples began squirting milk across the room and hit the bedroom wall. It made me laugh, it turned my husband on. I suppose its akin to the cum shot of porn having suddenly been transposed onto a womans breast. And it kept making me laugh every time it happened, and it kept turning my husband on, almost as much as it turned him on to taste my breast milk.

Now, some would call us heathens just for talking about tasting breast milk, but I tasted it to. After all, had to know what I was feeding my child didnt I? Needless to say my husband briefly suckling at the breast became a novel part of our foreplay for a time, and we always wondered when that crescendo performance of breast milk spurting would occur, and we always laughed when it did.

I think that men and women need to eradicate the taboos which exist for pregnant womens breasts. No doubt many will be outraged by my statements herein, theres a whole camp of people I dont understand who think that lactation is only to be reserved for the needs of the nursing infant. However, if we forget that our breasts can be sources of joy and sexual arousal, and start regarding them as simply a food source we devalue what it is to be a woman. Lactation isnt just for babies.

Lauri Jean Crowe is a freelance writer known for such diverse topics as dreams, sexuality, gardening, health and parenting. She is a freelance writer, artist and designer living in Michigan, USA.

Chronic Pain and Sex

Posted on December 1, 2000 by admin

By Lauri Jean Crowe

As a sufferer of chronic pain, I know that an area that is often affected is relationships. Whether they be platonic or sexually oriented, chronic pain can come between people when they dont know how to deal with it. Chronic pain is often something that is difficult for someone who doesnt have it to understand. Often when an individual says they are too tired, in too much pain, or hurt so they dont want to have sex, the partner interprets this as the pained individual not wanting them personally. This is where much miscommunication occurs between the sufferer of chronic pain and their significant other.

This article offers tips and suggestions for those who live with individuals who have chronic pain and illness. Spouses, significant others, and life partners, as well as those suffering from chronic pain can apply this advice in their daily lives in order to enhance their relationships and make the experience of sexuality more open, honest, and satisfying for each other.

Be aware. The most important aspect of dealing with chronic pain is being aware that it exists. Note if your partner has been having difficulties throughout the day. If so, be gentle, take time with foreplay and have cuddle time. Don’t just think of satisfying yourself. .

Once you’ve established that you are going to have sexual relations, don’t say, “are you sure your want to do this?”. You are doing this, and asking you partner if they want to is like asking them if they want to continue. While you may think youre being considerate, this may be interpreted by an overly sensitive individual with chronic pain as if you want to stop.

In the midst of sex, don’t stop, look at your partner who has been enjoying themselves and say, “Am I hurting you?”. Again, you may feel that youre being considerate, but this merely breaks whatever good feelings were happening for your partner in the midst of their pain, and causes the chronically ill person to remember their pain. By asking, Am I hurting you? you are putting the focus on the pain instead of the person. This can be one of the most disastrous questions in a sensual relationship with a chronically pained individual.

Don’t think you’ve done something wrong if your partner doesn’t reach climax. Often those who are suffering from chronic pain do not reach orgasm because no matter how great their pleasure, the pain still factors in. Pain can be a distraction even in the best of relations. Remember that even a little bit of good feeling and arousal can be better than your partners average day, and that by following the other suggestions presented here you will help give your partner a wonderful sexual experience even if you dont give them a climax.

Don’t forget that your partner has needs too. If your partner is continually not reaching climax, then find out if there is something you can do to make him or her more comfortable during sex so they achieve maximum enjoyment. Sometimes you may find that you already are doing everything possible on your end and that your patience and consideration are making your partner happy and sexually satisfied.

Lauri Jean Crowe is a freelance writer known for such diverse topics as dreams, sexuality, gardening, health and parenting. She is a freelance writer, artist and designer living in Michigan, USA.

the-vu

An Original Internet Magazine – Online Every Day Since July 1st ,2000, at the-vu.com

Tag Archives: Sex

My Unfulfilled (and Unfulfillable?) Fantasy

Black Desert Nights

Love Sex Power Inc.

Total Body Shaving Guide

The Skys the Limit

Vulva U

The Myth of the Divorced Woman

First Bondage: The Story of Ellen

Erotic Play: Biting for Love

Losing My Cherry

The Fine Art of Fellatio

Curtain Call

Osculation

Lactation Isn’t Just For Babies

Chronic Pain and Sex